Ten Years
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: They said the world would end in 2012. But they were wrong. The world ended two years earlier, when one hero decided to reveal herself to the world. Now, heroes are being sent back in time to fix what went wrong... Rated T for some violence and launguage.
1. 2020

**2020**

"Nightshade!" Sylar hissed. "We have to go!"

"Wait." Nightshade ordered. Her blue eyes, almost violet, locked on his.

"Nightshade!"

But she wasn't listening. She looked into the shadows, searching through them, her eyes straining against the darkness.

Suddenly, a harsh, cold smile crossed her face. A cry sounded out from the darkness and a young man came out, clutching his head. "P-P-Please…" He groaned. He collapsed to the ground in front of her.

Nightshade spat on the ground. "Shit!" She swore. "He's human. We have to move!"

Sylar didn't complain. Nightshade gave the man a good kick, but he seemed more relieved than hurt as he curled up on the stone ground.

Sylar ran ahead of Nightshade, though she was never more than a few steps behind.

"Where are we going?" She demanded at last.

"Hiro's." He replied simply.

She paled. "Yikes."

He nodded, but kept running.

Finally, they came to a large wall. No human could get above it.

"Trust me?" Sylar asked Nightshade.

"Always."

"We need to go up." He told her.

She winced. "Flying?"

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine. Let's just go."

He smiled and lifted her off the ground. She kept her eyes shut as tightly as possible until they were on the other side.

He set her down. She was pale and visibly shaken, but otherwise fine.

She took a deep breath. "Hiro's?"

Sylar smiled and nodded. They ran again.

* * *

Hiro's picture decorated a shelf, but the teleporter was long gone. Instead, his home had become a place for heroes to hide when they were on the run.

Sylar and Nightshade fit perfectly into that category. Sylar opened the door and motioned for Nightshade to enter.

"Who's there?" A harsh voice sounded out. Flames lit the man's hand.

"Relax. It's just us." Sylar whispered, coming in behind Nightshade.

The man looked at their faces and breathed a sigh in relief. "Shit, Sylar. You gave us a scare."

"Yeah. Nice to see you too, George." Nightshade growled.

George looked at her. "Sorry, 'Shade." He turned around. "The others are inside." He started to walk down the hallway that was immediately in front of the door.

Sylar shrugged and followed, Nightshade close behind.

Once inside, Sylar looked around. "Any word from Peter?" He asked.

"Another hero down." George spat. "The traitor."

"It's not his fault. If he doesn't do it…"

"Then _what?_" George demanded, whirling around to face her. "What will happen to him? Nothing! He'll die, so what? We'd get him out!"

"He doesn't know that." Nightshade snarled.

"Easy." Sylar placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's ok."

Nightshade looked at him, and took a deep breath. She nodded and kept walking ahead, brushing George aside.

When she was a few steps ahead, Sylar shoved George into the wall. "When are you going to learn?" he demanded.

George looked at him with wide eyes.

"When are you going to learn that it's not a good idea to make her _angry?_" Sylar continued. He shoved George into the wall one more time before following Nightshade down the hallway.

Once they were inside the next room, many curious heads turned towards them, only to turn away again as they recognized their faces.

Nightshade took Sylar's hand in hers, her eyes darting about nervously. He smiled softly. "It'll be ok." He whispered into her ear.

"No it won't. Shit, Sylar. I haven't been near this many scared people since the war began."

He looked at her, genuinely worried. "You need to leave?"

She shivered. Suddenly, her eyes locked on someone, hiding in the darkness. "You son of a _bitch!_" she screeched.

Every head turned to face her but one. That one in particular cringed against the wall.

Nightshade ran forward and grabbed him by the collar. "Listen, _human._" A few harsh gasps sounded at that revelation, but Nightshade ignored them. "What are you doing here?" She demanded.

He cringed. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm a hero…"

"Your mind says otherwise." She looked around. "Tell me there's a telepath here." She snarled to the other heroes.

A few heads shook from side to side. None of the surrounding heroes were telepaths, so none of them could have known that there was someone who wasn't a hero. But Nightshade knew. She always knew.

"Shit!" She hissed. She turned back to the man. "All right, what did you hear?"

His eyes were wide. "Nothing! Nothing, I promise!"

Her eyes darkened. "Tell. Me. The. Truth." She said, her voice commanding.

The man looked like he was about to respond, but then his eyes widened even further, fear the dominant emotion in his features. His eyes glazed over, as though he could see something that no one else could.

"N-No!" He whispered.

"Nightshade…" Sylar warned, behind her in a second. "Be careful…"

"Shut it." She spat. "I know what I'm doing."

Sylar nodded and stepped back. When it came to fear, Nightshade always knew what she was doing.

The man gasped. "P-P-Please! _No!_" He let out a blood-curdling shriek and collapsed to the floor.

"What did you hear?" Nightshade demanded.

"You're scared." The man volunteered the information without question. "You're scared of humans finding out about these places."

"Do you know of any other places?"

"Peter Petrelli's old home. No where else."

"How long have you been here?"

"Twenty-four hours." The man curled into a ball, his eyes wide and blank.

"Have you reported your information to anyone else?"

The man went silent.

Nightshade knelt down next to him. "Listen. What you're seeing now is _nothing_ compared to what I _can _show you. I can show you enough to make you insane. I can make you kill yourself trying to get away. Now, tell me. Who sent you, and have you reported anything to them?"

He stayed quiet.

Nightshade stood up and looked at him coldly. The man cried out.

"No! Please!" He began to clutch his head. "Please, stop!"

"Who do you work for?"

"The humans! CIA! FBI! Every human spy agency there is!"

"And did you report anything to them?"

"No! Nothing!"

She looked at him, and his vision cleared.

She knelt down next to him again. "You realize I can't let you live."

He looked at her, and something in his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she was capable of. "Anything but that. Anything but that…" he kept repeating the phrase, curling into a ball on the floor, wrapping his hands around his legs, placing his knees next to his chin. "Please."

She looked at him. "Why not? Tell me why I shouldn't."

"I'll do anything." He whispered. "Anything!"

She nodded slowly and stood up. "Sylar."

Sylar came forward. "You sure?"

She nodded.

The man looked at Sylar, his eyes wide with fear. "Please. Anything but her."

Sylar smirked. "I know what you mean."

He pulled out a gun, and in one shot it was over.

"Check for wires." Sylar ordered one of the heroes. "Make sure he wasn't lying."

But he knew they would find nothing. No one could hold back the fear that Nightshade could put in your heart. No one could tell her a lie, for the sake of their own minds.

He sighed and followed her into the other room.

She was sitting on a chair, her eyes blank. Many heroes in the room had enough sense to leave, but some didn't know what she was capable of.

"Out." Sylar snapped at them.

Many stared at him with wide eyes.

"Why should…" One began, then trailed off as he recognized Sylar's face. He paled. "Yes, sir."

They all got out as quickly as they could.

Sylar sat down next to Nightshade. "It's ok. Go ahead."

Her deep near-violet eyes locked on his. "I'm sorry."

He nodded, and the world went black.

* * *

Sylar knew he shouldn't be afraid as the darkness pressed around him. He knew he shouldn't care that he was in a cage, because it was illusion. Nothing more. But he couldn't stop the terror that sent his heart pounding. He couldn't stop the fear that coursed through him.

His heart sped, faster and faster as his darkest fears became a reality around him. The sharp pain of a knife in the back of his head, the fear of being in a cage he could not escape.

He could hear his own pounding heart as the dark began to take its hold, began to bring forth his deepest nightmares, his worst fears.

He could not stop his heart as it continued to beat faster and faster, louder and louder in his over-sensitive ears.

And then it stopped. It simply stopped, unable to continue going after the terror that had gripped it so tightly.

He was dead.

* * *

Sylar gasped as his heart started again, thanks to a certain cheerleader's ability. "Shit!" he swore. It was rare than anyone ever came to life gracefully.

"Sylar!" Nightshade was at his side in a second. "Sylar, I'm so sorry…"

He blew it off with the wave of a hand, waiting for a moment as his heart healed itself completely. "It's ok. I'm fine."

She looked at him with wide eyes, and Sylar felt something familiar stir in his mind. A desperate need to take her ability, to destroy this girl and take away what was in her mind.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. "I'm fine." He repeated.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "He was so scared…" She whispered softly.

Sylar took her hand in his. "It will be ok." He promised her.

She nodded slowly.

* * *

"You believe she's the one?"

The old man turned to face the only other person in the room. "Indeed."

The younger man sighed. His blond hair was long enough to fall into his eyes, but not long enough to do anything about it. Irritated, he blew a strand out of his face. "If I may speak freely, sir…"

The old man gestured for him to continue.

"I don't like this. Nightshade has always been somewhat… reckless. And with Sylar in the picture, even more so. And… if we want the humans to listen to us, to not be afraid of us, why are we sending someone who can control their fear, terrify them further?"

"Because there is no one better than Nightshade for this. And, of course, no one else that Sylar will take with him to the past."

The younger man swallowed. "That's the problem, isn't it? Sylar is, without a doubt, incredibly powerful. But sometimes, he can't control his ability. Sometimes, he has to kill. You know that."

"He's managed not to kill Nightshade over the years." The older remarked dryly.

"That's different." He snapped back.

"Enough. The decision has been made. Sylar and Nightshade shall go together. Now, get the others ready."

The younger glared at him mutinously for a minute, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"Nightshade?" The hero walked up to her.

"Yes?" Her eyes narrowed.

Sylar looked at the man in shock. "What does he want now?"

"To see you." The man replied. "Both of you. Now."

Nightshade glared at him. She didn't tend to trust people who randomly came up to you and said your name. But Sylar nodded and followed him, so she did the same.

She brought herself next to Sylar. "Who is he?"

"His name is Robert." Sylar explained, as though he'd told her everything she needed to know.

"And…?"

"And he works for the council."

Nightshade paled. "The council is a myth."

Sylar smirked. "So we let everyone think."

"We? You're on it too?"

He winked at her, and they kept walking.

They exited Hiro's house, and walked down a few streets. Finally, Robert (secretly, Nightshade started mentally calling him 'Bob') stopped in front of a door. "We're here." He whispered.

Sylar knocked three times quickly, then paused, and one final time.

"We changed that weeks ago." Bob grumbled. "Let me."

Sylar held him back. "Just wait."

Nightshade listened for noise on the other side of the door. She thought she heard a few words that weren't really for polite company, but she wasn't certain. Suddenly, the door swung open.

"Sylar!" The woman behind the door looked breathless and pale.

Sylar nodded once. "Claire."

Nightshade's heart skipped. So this was the infamous Claire Bennett.

Claire turned to Bob and nodded her head. "Robert."

"Claire."

"I take it they're with you?" She asked, gesturing to Sylar and Nightshade.

Bob nodded once, and Claire stepped aside.

Nightshade and Sylar entered the house, followed by Bob.

This time, Sylar was in the lead. They entered a room that instantly sent Nightshade's instincts on alert.

Sylar smiled as they entered the darkness. "Sam."

The old man smiled back. "Good to see you again, Sylar."

"And you. Now, what's this about?"

Nightshade gripped Sylar's hand tightly. If this really was a member of the council…

He squeezed it back, gently. "Careful." He whispered. "I thought I felt something snap."

She let go quickly, then slapped his shoulder when she realized he was laughing. "Not funny." She hissed, blushing.

He grinned and turned back to Sam.

Sam ignored their exchange. "Sylar, we need a favor."

"Go on…"

"There are two jobs that need to be done. Both of which you are capable of. And remember, everything I'm going to tell you is secret."

Sylar nodded.

"We're going to destroy the world."

Nightshade heard someone gasp, and realized it was her.

"We're going to place radioactive heroes at certain points across the world. The planet will burn, the war will end, and those few heroes that can heal themselves will live. And, of course, those who can heal others will work to heal every hero in sight."

Sylar looked like he was going to protest, but Sam raised a hand, cutting him off. "That is one team. Team 2 consists of time travelers."

Sylar paled. "Tell me you're not going to do what I think you're going to do."

"Unfortunately. Now, we've been avoiding this for all the obvious reasons. But now there is no other choice. The humans are too strong. We will lose again."

"Sylar? What's he talking about?" Nightshade asked.

"A simple time jump, young lady." Sam replied for Sylar. "We are planning to send certain heroes to the past in order to convince the Original not to do what she does."

Nightshade swallowed, fear plain in her eyes. The Original had been the first hero to reveal herself. She'd lit on fire in front of television cameras, which sent the videos across the world.

She'd become a celebrity for a long time, never realizing what had happened…

"So you want Sylar to change her mind?" Nightshade looked at him like he was insane.

"Not just Sylar, my dear…" Sam continued.

"No!" Sylar stepped in front of Nightshade protectively. "I can do this. But I will _not _let her travel to the past. It's too dangerous!"

"Any more dangerous than what we do every day?" Sam asked.

"There are Time Barriers in place! She'd burn!" Sylar glared at the man murderously.

"The Time Barriers will be destroyed before you leave. We have planned this already."

"I won't do this, Sam. I can heal, she can't!"

"Then take my ability." Bob said, stepping in front of Sylar. "If you fail, it won't matter anyway."

"No. You'll be needed if we fail." Sylar shook his head fiercely. "There will be other heroes depending on you."

"Not true." Bob replied. "I'm dying, Sylar. Already. Sam believes it's best if I don't try and heal others. I may end up killing them. You know how that works."

Sylar smiled ruefully. "No, Robert, I'm afraid I don't."

Bob smiled darkly, but Nightshade shivered. She didn't like it when someone was in Sylar's path like that. Too many times he'd come too close to snapping, to taking an ability right then and there.

"No." Nightshade snapped. "Sylar, don't do this. I'll be fine."

He whirled to face her. "Nightshade, nothing can get through Time Barriers. _Nothing. _I won't take you, and that's final."

"They're going to take them out." Nightshade replied. "I'm going. You're taking me. _That's final._"

He looked at her for a long time, then sighed. "Nightshade, you will be the death of me."

He turned to Sam. "Fine. We'll go." He looked back at Bob. "And you can _keep _your ability. I don't want it."

Nightshade's smile was filled with pride, but it faded as she realized how much of a lie it was. Sylar was biting his lip, as though it was impossible for him to turn away from the man who had just offered him something he'd always wanted…

"Excellent!" Sam said with a smile. "You shall leave tomorrow. By then, the Time Barriers will be destroyed."

* * *

Sylar had never felt so guilty in his life.

He hurriedly washed the blood off of his hands, as though it could wash away the murder he'd just committed. His mind kept flashing back to that proud smile on Nightshade's face, after he'd refused to kill Robert (Who he secretly called Bob as well, though only mentally. He didn't like being called Bob, for some reason) even when he'd offered to let him take his ability. She'd thought he'd come so far…

Darkness swept around him, enclosing him in a cage.

_SHIT! _

He sat back, trying to endure his punishment, but it was hard as the terror gripped him like a vice, threatening to take the breath from his lungs, to stop his heart from beating. Over and over, he felt the sharp, blazing pain of a knife in the back of his head. Over and over, he was trapped in a dark cage. Over and over he was murdered, and over and over he was the murderer. His worst fears came to life in front of him.

His heart beat its last.

* * *

Nightshade was trying to wipe away her tears as she waited for Sylar to come back to life. She'd gone to sleep earlier that night, and woken up to find that Sylar, who was _supposed _to be in the other room, was missing. She had no doubts as to where he was, but knew she was too late. He'd come inside and washed the blood off his hands, which erased any further doubt.

So she'd trapped him inside his own mind, in his deepest fears. She'd made him so terrified his heart stopped. And now, she just had to wait until it healed again.

Sylar woke with a gasp.

"You son of a bitch." She hissed, pushing him backwards as he sat up. "What is _wrong _with you? You had to go and kill him! Why? Just tell me, Sylar! _Why?_"

He looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, Nightshade. It… it had to be done. To save you."

"To save _me? _Sylar, I would have been _fine!_ The Time Barriers are going to be gone by the time we have to go through them! You just want that ability for _yourself!_"

He looked like he was going to protest, but Nightshade wouldn't let him.

"I know he can kill as well as heal, Sylar. I'm not stupid. That's why you wanted his ability! That's _it!_"

"'Shade…"

"Don't!" Nightshade shrieked. "I don't want excuses, you asshole! I want you to bring him back, or _don't talk to me!_"

Nightshade knew very well that Sylar couldn't bring Robert back. Not even his stolen healing ability could do that. The damage was done. She walked out of the room, though she didn't really know where she was going.

Sylar sighed, a deep heavy sigh.

But it didn't matter. Nightshade would be safe. They would get through time with no problems. They would do what they were meant to do. Maybe then, she wouldn't be so furious with him.

Maybe.


	2. 2010

"Nightshade, this is really childish."

Nightshade knew Sylar was right, but to be honest, she didn't care. She whirled around, ignoring him. She hadn't said a word to him all morning, and it was making him crazy.

"Nightshade, please. Just let me explain…"

"Explain?" Nightshade hissed, unable to contain it anymore. "Explain what? How you couldn't stop yourself? How he was fine with you killing him? That's _fine, _Sylar. I don't _care _about that."

His eyes widened.

"I care that you didn't tell me. That you actually thought you could hide something like that from me. That you thought it was _ok _to go behind everyone's back to murder _again._"

He looked at her, shock in his features. "So… you never cared that I killed someone?" he demanded.

"People!" Sam interrupted their conversation, coming up next to them. "We have no time for petty arguments!" He turned to face Nightshade. "And what do you care about murder, anyway? From what I've seen…"

Sylar drew a line across his own neck, his eyes wide. _Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! _His face conveyed the words so his mouth wouldn't have to.

But the damage was done. Nightshade screeched, an inhuman noise that sent chills down Sylar's spine.

Sam knew he shouldn't be afraid of the illusions in front of him, the illusions that she'd created. But he couldn't help it. Her ability triggered every emotion in him, and changed it into pure fear.

He collapsed to the floor, screaming. "N-N-NO! Claire! Please, _no!_ Don't… don't hurt her! _Please!_"

Nightshade knew what his fears were. They were distinct. Easy to figure out.

Almost…

"Shit! He's _human?_" She whirled to face Sylar. But he didn't look shocked. He just sighed.

"Let him go, Nightshade. He's on our side."

Nightshade glared at him for a minute. "Who is he? Why is a _human _on our council?"

"Nightshade, let him go!"

"Answer my question!"

"Noah Bennett!"

Nightshade took a step back. Shock made her lose her mental hold on Sam (Noah?), and he gasped in relief.

Sylar sighed, relieved as well. "His name is Noah Bennett."

She looked at Noah. "But… he's too old!"

Noah, feeling slightly better after the attack, stood up with a grunt. "Thanks for that. I feel great about myself now. You're a real confidence booster."

She blushed. "Sorry. But it's still true."

He nodded. "Courtesy of a hero. He got mad, made me about twenty years older than I'm supposed to be. Add an additional ten years since this war started…" He shrugged. "And I look old."

Her eyes were still wide. "But… you're…_human._" She spat the word out like it was the worst thing you could be called.

"And you're a villain." He shot back. In these days of the war, calling a hero a villain was the worst thing you could do, the worst word you could say. It was the exact opposite of what they really were, and, over the years, had become one of the worst words in the dictionary.

Nightshade snarled. "Watch it, Bennett. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

Sylar placed his hand on her shoulder. Despite how furious she was at him, it kept her calm enough to deal with the situation rationally. She took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh.

"I'm a hero." She told Noah. "Plain and simple. If you don't like it, human, you can deal with it."

She whirled and walked out of the room.

For a moment, there was silence. Finally, Noah sighed. "Sylar, why did she see you come back last night? I told you not to get caught."

Sylar shrugged. "Nightshade knew Robert was afraid. She felt it. That must have woken her up."

"Wonderful. Just wonderful."

"Tell me about it."

Noah looked down. "Sylar, this plan can not work if you and Nightshade are fighting. Talk to her. Figure something out. You leave in an hour."

Sylar nodded once and followed Nightshade. He hadn't told her that Bennett had ordered him to kill Robert. He hadn't told her anything.

Nightshade was sitting on the floor in the hallway. Her face was pale, and her eyes glazed.

He sighed and sat down next to her. "Nightshade, I'm sorry. I should have told you everything."

She looked at him for a long time. Finally, she sighed and tilted her head to the side until it was resting on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, too."

He smiled and placed his hand on hers.

Sylar and Nightshade could never really be mad at each other, and, on the rare occasion that they were, it never lasted very long. She'd known him since she was eleven, when the war started. They'd been through a lot together, and in ten years, he'd never killed her.

She smiled softly. "So. The past."

He grinned, stood, and helped her to her feet.

"The past." He agreed.

* * *

"Ready?" Noah asked into his small phone (though it was more like a walkie talkie).

"Yes, sir." The cracking, static-filled voice on the other end replied. "The Time Barriers are broken."

Nightshade saw Sylar smile. "Better than flying." He mouthed.

She nodded shakily. "Let's go." She mouthed back.

Noah looked at them. "Good luck."

Sylar placed his hand on her shoulder, and they disappeared out of time.

* * *

**2010**

Nightshade blinked, unsure of what had just happened. And yet, she _knew _what happened, intellectually. But her body, particularly her stomach, was having a hard time keeping up.

She fell onto her hands and knees. Sounds blurred into one another, though she was fairly certain she heard Sylar's worried voice, though it was distant, and sounded as though he was under water.

And then she threw up.

After a moment of coughing and trying to catch her breath, Nightshade's head cleared.

"You ok?" Sylar asked, worried.

She nodded. "Fine." She coughed once, and slowly began to stand up.

Sylar smiled weakly. "I'm a little out of practice. But we're in the right time zone, I'm sure of it."

"Oh? And how do you know that?" she asked sourly.

He grinned. "The obvious way of course."

"That newspaper?" She asked, pointing over to a paper hanging out of the trash.

Sylar frowned. "No. Not quite that boring."

That made her smile. "Your ability?"

He nodded, the smile back on his face.

She chuckled. "Come on. We should probably go and find the Original."

Sylar nodded, and they started to run.

* * *

Claire Bennett swore as the doorbell rang. Her fingers slipped, slicing the knife she was using into her hand. It healed in a few seconds, but now she'd have to clear up the blood.

She swore again as the idiot at the door, who seemed to have no patience whatsoever, started ringing the doorbell over and over, so that the annoying sound echoed in her ears, and would for a long time afterwards.

She walked to the door. "I'm coming!" She snapped.

The doorbell stopped instantly.

She swung open the door, and stopped dead. "Sylar!"

Sylar grinned. "Hello, Claire."

Claire looked at him, fear in her eyes, but hate in her voice. "What do _you _want?" She demanded.

"_This _is Claire Bennett?" An unbelieving voice sounded next to Sylar. For the first time, Claire noticed the young woman. She couldn't be older than twenty, possibly twenty-one.

"Yes." Claire snapped at her. "And you would be?"

The girl smiled darkly. "Nightshade."

There was something in her eyes, her blue eyes that were almost violet. Something dark. Something… dangerous. Claire felt a shiver run down her spine.

Sylar cleared his throat, bringing Claire's attention back to him. "May we come in?"

She looked at him for a long time, and the silence stretched on. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "Why not? I'm the only one home."

Sylar smiled as she opened the door wider, allowing them inside. Not that they couldn't get in without her consent. More than once, Claire had seen the damage caused by Sylar's telekinesis, and she had no wish for that to happen to her door.

And then there was this woman. Nightshade. There was something different about her. Something that trembled beneath the surface, screaming to be let loose. Everything about her radiated power, a dark and horrible power that was brought forth from nightmares.

"What is this about, anyway?" Claire asked as she sat down in the other room.

Sylar sat across from her, Nightshade at his side. "I'm afraid some of this will be slightly… confusing."

"I'm sure I can manage."

Nightshade's eyes narrowed.

Sylar continued, despite his partner's hostility. "We're not from this time, Claire."

Claire looked at them for a long time. Finally, she nodded. "Makes… sense. Future?"

Sylar nodded.

Claire nodded again. "Go on."

"We're here looking for someone known as 'The Original.' Perhaps you've heard of her."

"No."

"There's another name. Erica King."

Her eyes widened. "It… it can't be HER. She goes to my school! She's the most normal person I've ever met!"

Nightshade's eyes darkened. "Many people seem normal until you meet them."

Claire looked at her. "Yes. But not like Erica. She… she… it's hard to explain."

"We have four days, Claire." Sylar remarked dryly.

Claire let out a sigh. "She… She committed suicide three days ago."

* * *

Nightshade stared at Claire, disbelief plain in her eyes. "Impossible!" She breathed.

Sylar's eyes were dark. "What happened?"

Claire sighed. "Erica King was never really a social person. She… had some issues with people."

Nightshade fought the sharp remark in her throat. In her experience, people who thought you had an issue had an issue of their own.

"She… she…" Claire sighed. "She was never really… _accepted. _At least, that's what she thought. There was this girl, Lauren, who said a few things to her. Just minor jokes. Nothing more. Nothing to spark off the reaction she had." She swallowed. "At least, that's what we all thought."

She looked down. "No one knew what was really happening until it _did_ happen. One of the teachers heard a gunshot. Everyone screamed and panicked. Finally, they realized that it came from one of the bathrooms. Erica had managed to sneak a gun into the school, and shot herself. And she wrote things, on the walls, on the doors. Things that Lauren had said to her. And things we never knew Lauren said. And she wrote, _You did this, Lauren Johnson. You're the murderer now._"

Nightshade listened to the story in silence. She remembered back in _her _school days, before the war started. It was especially difficult when heroes were revealed. Everyone was accusing the other of being a freak, not normal. And Nightshade was one who got the majority of it. It was her ability's fault. Everyone in the world had a natural fear of her.

"Turns out, Lauren had been a real bitch to Erica, ever since preschool." Claire continued. "She didn't even care when Erica died, until people started asking questions. Then the fake tears flowed."

Nightshade's hands balled into fists.

Sylar thought about this for a moment. "It's impossible." He whispered.

For a long time, there was silence. Finally, Claire sighed and spoke. "I'm making hot chocolate. You want any?"

Sylar just looked at her.

But Nightshade knew what this was about. Claire just wanted to find an excuse to talk privately with her. It happened a lot; people warning her about Sylar. She was used to it.

"You want some help?" Nightshade asked.

Claire smiled gratefully. "Yeah. That'd be great, thanks."

Nightshade followed Claire into the other room.

Nightshade was helping with the hot chocolate, like she'd offered. But Claire kept staring at her, trying to think of something to say. Nightshade didn't interrupt her thoughts.

Finally, she sighed and spoke. "How much do you know about Sylar?"

"Enough." Nightshade replied. "I know he's a serial killer. That he takes abilities of people like us."

Claire swallowed. "Did you know he took mine?"

Nightshade _did _know that, but, looking into Claire's eyes, there was something that stopped her from saying so. This was Claire's worst nightmare, her weakest moment. Nightshade could feel her terror, pulsing off her in waves, dancing across her.

But she had to answer. "Yes. I'm sorry."

Claire swallowed. "It _hurts_, Nightshade."

Nightshade smirked. "I know." Her violet eyes sparkled dangerously.

Claire looked at her. "Just out of curiosity, what _is _your ability?"

Her smile darkened. "Pure fear, cheerleader. I can make you see things from your worst nightmares."

Claire paled. "Shit." She breathed. "I'd hate to think…" She trailed off.

"What Sylar would be like after he took it?" Nightshade completed. Her already dark smile now terrified Claire even more.

Claire shivered. "Yes."

"Just remember, Claire Bennett." She went on. "Sylar isn't the only one here who's guilty of murder."

Claire looked at her with wide eyes.

* * *

Sylar's eyes lifted as he noticed the two coming back into the room. Claire looked pale. Nightshade had that triumphant look in her eyes, the one that appeared whenever someone in the room was scared. That look would make humans, and most heroes, shiver. But Sylar merely noted it with a dark fascination.

"Where's the hot chocolate?" he questioned with a smile.

Claire paled even further. "S-Sorry. I'll go and…" She trailed off as she left the room.

When she was gone, Sylar looked at Nightshade. "What did you _do _to her?"

She shrugged. "Nothing major."

Sylar rolled his eyes, and Nightshade sat next to him.

Claire entered the room again, this time carrying two cups of hot chocolate. She handed one to Nightshade, and Sylar noted the goose bumps traveling up her arm.

He sighed. "Really, Claire. She isn't going to hurt you."

Claire's eyes blazed with fury as they locked on his. "I would believe that if she wasn't just like _you._" She hissed. "Get out! Both of you!" Her fear had transformed to anger in the blink of an eye.

Nightshade looked at Sylar. "I don't think we're wanted, do you?"

Sylar shook his head. "Apparently not." He stood up and walked to the door. "Thank you for explaining everything, Claire."

Claire looked at him, shocked. Sylar never said _thank you. _It wasn't… wasn't like him…

Nightshade followed Sylar.

"What do you think? Erica King is really dead?" Sylar looked at her as he spoke.

"No." Nightshade shook her head. "There has to be another explanation. There always is."

* * *

Lauren Johnson sat down on her bed, exhausted after the day's work. It was especially hard now that Erica was dead. Everyone was always asking her questions, questions that she didn't know the answer to. That she never knew the answer to.

She glared at her backpack, as though that could make tonight's homework disappear. She was completely overwhelmed by schoolwork, and her mother had told her she could only go to the party this weekend if she had all her homework done.

She sighed and pulled out a piece of paper and a history book. She glanced at the mirror as she walked by; it was human nature.

And froze.

She took a few steps back to look in the mirror, slowly, carefully.

In the mirror was the perfect image of Erica King.

"Shit!" Lauren cried as she whirled around.

Erica was standing in front of her.

There was one difference. Flames surrounded her, licking at her skin and dancing across her in the room.

Lauren swore repeatedly.

Erica smiled darkly. "Hello, murderer."

"This isn't happening." Lauren whispered. "You're… you're _not real!_"

"I'm not?" Erica demanded. Flames flickered around her, and spread across the room. "I'm not?" She roared.

Lauren cringed away from the flames. "No! Erica… you're _dead!_ You're dead!"

Erica laughed, and the fire danced across the entire room. "Yes, Lauren! Thanks to _you!_"

"I'm… I'm sorry!"

Erica's eyes locked on Lauren's. "You will be. I am here from your worst nightmares, Lauren. And I will never let go. You will die, just like me!"

The flames increased for a brief moment, so bright that Lauren had to look away. When they disappeared, Erica was gone.

Lauren's eyes cracked open. There was no evidence of a fire.

* * *

"Erica was… a troubled child. Always… secretive." Principal James sighed as he led the two visitors down the hall. "Why do you ask?"

"Long story." The man, who had introduced himself as John, replied.

The woman, Violet, scanned the halls with dark eyes. "And this is where it happened?" She demanded.

James nodded. "Yes. If you want to take a look…" he opened the door.

John went inside quickly. He didn't seem bothered by the blood that was splattered on the walls. "You think you could give us a minute…?" He asked.

James nodded. "Um… the police have already been here…" he swallowed.

"Yes, but we're just double checking a few things." John replied. "Standard procedure, you understand."

"Oh. Yes. Quite. I'll… I'll leave you to it, then."

As he left, Violet came up next to John.

"How did you manage to make that guy think you're a cop?" She demanded.

John grinned and winked. "You're not the only one who deals with the mind. It's a gift I got from a man named Matt Parkman."

"A gift you stole?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

He snorted. "You'd think that after being around me for ten years you would get used to it."

She shrugged. "I'm used to it. I just don't _like _it."

James knew he shouldn't be listening in. But he just couldn't help it. Something about these two just sent his instincts flaring.

Violet looked at John for a long time. "I'll be right back."

He looked back at her and nodded.

James listened for another moment before the darkness attacked his senses.

* * *

"I almost feel sorry for this guy." Nightshade said as the man cringed on the floor. "Something like Erica was his worst fear. And it actually happened."

Sylar sighed. "Did you have to do that to him?"

"He was listening in! You can erase the memories or something."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"So. Did you find anything?"

Sylar sighed. "Nothing. As far as I can tell, Erica really did kill herself."

"But that's impossible!" She replied.

"Hold on, I'm not finished." He gestured to the wall. "Notice that?"

She looked at it. "She burnt the words into the wall?" Shock filled her voice as she looked at the words described by Claire Bennett. _You did this, Lauren Johnson. You're the murderer now._

He nodded. "Erica King, the very same one who died, is The Original. She has to be. There is no other way, no other explanation."

Nightshade paled. "Right."

Sylar sighed. "Come on. Let's get out of here." He gestured to the school's principal. "Make sure he's ok before we go."

"He's fine." Nightshade replied. "Let's go."

He sighed, and they ran again.


	3. 2010 to 2011

"Erica King?"

She whirled around, flames lightning her hand. "Who are you?" She demanded.

The woman's breath caught in her throat. "My name is Nightshade."

Erica glared at her. "What do you want?"

"To talk. Nothing more."

Erica looked at her for a long time.

"If it helps, I think you did the right thing." Nightshade finally said.

"What do you mean?" the fire flickered uneasily in her hands.

Nightshade smiled darkly. "How do you think I found you?" She gestured to the window, where Lauren was still pale from Erica's 'visit.'

Erica snarled. "What's it to you?"

Nightshade grinned. "Let's just say that fear is _my _element. And if I were you, I would have done exactly the same thing." She sighed and sat down, her feet dangling over the edge of the roof, as though there was no life-threatening drop below.

Erica looked at her for a moment, then sat down next to her.

Nightshade sighed. "I saw the things that bitch said to you. The stuff you put on the walls?"

Erica turned her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Nightshade was silent for a long time. Finally, she sighed and spoke, her words barely a whisper. "I could kill her."

"What?" Erica was on her feet in a second. "No! No way!"

Nightshade smiled. "There you go, Erica. You think you want her dead, that you want her to suffer like you did. But you really don't."

"Suffering and death are two different things." Erica spat.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt her." She smiled darkly. "Maybe scare her a bit, but not hurt her."

Erica carefully, cautiously, sat down again. "Who _are _you? _What _are you?"

Nightshade raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing. Don't you control flames?"

Erica looked at her hands, fire still flickering across them.

"I do something similar." Nightshade continued. "Only with fear."

For a long time, there was silence.

Finally, Erica spoke up. "Why are you here?"

Nightshade smiled. "Finally, we get to the point. I'm here because I want to tell you something, Erica. Something that has happened in the next ten years."

"_Next _ten years? You're insane."

Nightshade smiled. "Maybe." She turned to Erica. "But will you listen?"

Erica looked at her for a long time. Finally, she nodded slowly.

* * *

**December 2010**

The Original didn't see the wars. She didn't know what she'd done.

She was still living the life of a celebrity.

She didn't know that humans and heroes had started fighting. The smarter heroes had seen where this was going, and had gone into hiding. Other heroes were forced into it, based on their circumstances.

Heroes like Nicole. And her little brother, Zach.

Zach was only four when The Original had revealed herself to the world. He was five when the wars began. Nicole was eleven.

Nicole crept out from the shadows.

"We attack tonight." Larissa, a teleporter, whispered.

There were seven of them, including Nicole and her brother. Two were elementals, one teleporter, one telepath, and one unknown.

Not exactly an army.

From what Nicole knew, they were up against a _real _army, one that consisted of both humans and heroes. Fury welled inside her as she thought of the heroes who had joined the humans, betraying their own kind in the process.

"But what about the humans?" The person with the unknown ability asked.

Larissa rolled her eyes. "What do I care?"

"They have guns." The man growled.

Larissa sighed. "And what do _you _care? You can't die."

"The others can, teleporter." He hissed. "Much as I hate to admit it, I don't want anyone here to die."

"Cool it!" The telepath snarled. "We can't have fighting on our side! We have to win this!"

Larissa nodded. "He's right."

Nicole swallowed and looked at her little brother. "Are you ready?" She whispered.

He smiled, his hands lightning up with a radioactive glow. "Oh, yeah."

Nicole smiled weakly. That was Zach's way of dealing with his ability; loving every second of it.

She wished she could say the same. But ever since her fight with her father, her ability seemed to be the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

* * *

When the attack _did _come, it came quickly.

Larissa led it, straight into the heart of the small storage house.

One of the elementals was down in the first minute. The battle raged around them, confusion and war surrounding them.

Nicole took them one at a time. She wasn't able to completely control her ability yet, so it was difficult to stop making people afraid once she started.

One more person collapsed and a smile crossed her face. Success!

She aimed at another person, her eyes narrowing as she focused on him.

Then the unexpected happened. Zach, his little hands glowing, raced towards that same man.

And was caught in the crossfire.

Fear is a powerful thing, and no one knew that better than Nicole. But the fear of a child is much stronger.

Power rushed through Nicole, converted from her little brother's fear. But it was too much. It threatened to overwhelm her as she stumbled back, shrieking in pain.

She struggled to control the power flooding through her. Her mind screamed with the effort.

But when she finally gained control, it was too late.

"_NO!" _

Nicole's eyes were wide with shock as she looked at the five-year-old's limp body on the ground.

His heart had stopped.

"_NO!" _

And she lost control once again.

Screaming filled the room as everyone, hero and human alike, collapsed to the ground, crying out in fear.

Power washed through Nicole once again. Again, it was too much. Again, control abandoned her.

And, as everyone in the room died, she blacked out.

* * *

She was only out for a few seconds. Coming awake was the worst part.

She struggled against the light assaulting her senses. No no no! She wanted to stay in this darkness, where she didn't have to face the world, to face what she'd done…

But she couldn't stay. Slowly, pain forced her awake.

Her eyes opened, and she blinked, once, twice.

She gasped, chocking as the air came too quickly. She coughed a few times, and sat up, trying to figure out what was happening.

Another gasp alerted her to something else. She wasn't alone.

She was on her feet in a second, following the sound of coughing.

He was lying on the ground, covered in blood and dust and ash. The blood was everywhere, but there wasn't a scratch on him.

She pulled herself next to him. "What side are you on?" She demanded harshly.

He looked at her with wide eyes, still trying to catch his breath.

"_Whose side are you on?_" She screeched, pulling a gun from one of the bodies and placing it against his forehead.

"Heroes!" He chocked out the word. "Heroes!"

She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that she recognized him. He was the hero with the unknown power that had been arguing with Larissa.

He looked at her, and looked around the room. More specifically, the bodies that littered the floor. "Did you do this?" he asked, his breath returning slightly.

A tear found its way down her face as she nodded.

Suddenly, everything really hit her. She started to sob, collapsing to the floor next to him.

He gently placed arm on her shoulder. "Hey… it's ok… shh… it's ok…"

She kept crying, sobbing into his arm.

The man looked at her, a strange light in his eyes.

Finally, she pulled herself together, wiping the tears off her face. "Sorry." She whispered. "It's just…" She looked at Zach. "He was my brother."

The man swallowed. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, unable to speak.

He sighed. "What's your name?"

"Nicole."

He held out a hand. "Sylar."

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him for a long time.

Suddenly, the corner of her mouth twitched. A nervous, hysterical, and slightly insane smile threatened to cross her face.

"So _that's _it."

He looked at her. "What?"

She looked back. "Don't pretend to be innocent. I know that you take abilities of people by killing them. You just want my ability." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Then take it."

He was silent for so long that, against her better judgment, Nicole finally decided to crack her eyes open.

He looked at her, and remained silent.

Finally, she had to speak. "What?"

He let out a long, deep sigh.

"What?" She asked again.

He remained silent for a moment longer.

"What?"

He sighed again. "You have no _idea _how badly I want to rip open your head right now."

She winced slightly at the harsh words, but he just kept staring at her.

"Then do it. You're going to anyway."

Finally, he shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"There's too much at stake here." He looked at her again for a long time, a pained expression on his face.

She looked back, her eyes locking on his.

"Shit!" He swore, standing up. "Do _not _give me that choice! It's _not _a good idea!"

She stood as well. "Calm down, Sylar."

"And, whatever you do, don't tell me to _calm down!_" he snarled.

Nicole found herself flying backwards. She cried out as her head smacked into the concrete.

He looked at her. She sat up, blood trickling down the side of her head.

For a long, tense moment, there was nothing but silence. Nicole waited for him to slice open her forehead.

Instead, he sighed and extended a hand to help her up. "I'm… I'm sorry. I… I didn't mean to… to hurt you."

She looked at his hand for a long time, before finally taking it.

He helped her to her feet.

"We should go." He said at last, not meeting her eyes. "There are bound to be some humans who have heard this."

She nodded, and he started to run.

"Wait!"

He turned around.

She swallowed. "Can we… can we take him?" She gestured to her brother's limp body.

He looked at her for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

Zach's body hovered in the air, and the three of them disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Nicole had buried Zach's body in a small area of dirt just outside the house they were hiding in. It was an old house, completely abandoned, but it had a backyard, which was enough. These days, there was no real way she could bury him properly, or have a proper funeral.

She entered the house again, where the serial killer was sitting on the couch inside. He gestured for her to sit next to him. She obeyed, hurriedly trying to wipe away the tears that were still streaking down her face.

He gently took her hands away from her cheeks. "It's ok." He whispered.

She smiled sadly, but gratefully, and placed her hands at her sides.

He sighed and looked at the broken TV. There was nothing on it but static, but he didn't seem to care.

"So…" Nicole whispered.

"Yes…?"

She sighed. "I hope you don't mind me asking but…" She sighed. "Sylar… that isn't your real name, is it?"

He smiled softly. "No."

She sighed. "I thought not." She looked at him. "So… why did you change your real name?"

He bit his lip thoughtfully. "Does it matter?"

"No."

He smiled again. "Because I wanted to be someone different from my old self. I wanted to be… well, special."

She smiled as well, her tears beginning to dry. "Yeah. I know that feeling."

"And what happened?"

She looked at him. "I got my wish. I became special." Her eyes hardened. "Now my mom thinks I'm a freak, my dad tried to kill me, and my brother is dead because of my ability."

He sighed. "As is often the way."

There was silence for a long time.

"You know, I killed a member of my family, too." He whispered.

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He nodded. "My mom."

She swallowed.

He sighed.

She looked at him for a long time. Finally, she sighed and blurted out the question that had been on her lips for a long time. "Sylar, why are you scared?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not."

She rolled her eyes. "You've got to be kidding. You're terrified."

"And how do you know that?" he demanded harshly.

She winced, realizing that her next words might condemn her to a horrible death. But she had to continue. "That… that's what I do. I control people's fear. I can sense it, use it, control their thoughts and put them in their worst nightmares. Even if they know it's only an illusion, they can't help but be afraid. I can scare people so badly they go insane and kill themselves. Or their heart stops. Whichever comes first."

Sylar's breath caught in his throat.

She looked at him. "You ok?"

"Give me a minute." He hissed through clenched teeth.

She flinched. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Shut up and let me think!"

She obeyed.

Finally, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You should probably leave."

She looked at him for a long time. Finally, she sighed and spoke. "No."

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "No?" A killer tone had crept into his voice.

She shook her head. "Look. I don't know why, but for some reason you're trying not to kill people. I'm trying to survive and not scare everyone on the planet to death." She placed her hand on his. "We both need someone else to achieve those goals."

He yanked it away. "Don't you think it would be easier for me if that person _wasn't _one of the most powerful heroes on the planet?" He snapped. "And if she _wasn't _only eleven years old?"

Her eyes darkened. "I may be eleven, Sylar, but like you said, I'm one of the most powerful heroes on the planet. And if you tried to kill me, I'd stop you."

He looked at her.

Nicole found herself flying backwards again, her stomach lurching as her back slammed into a wall.

Sylar's finger was level with her forehead. "Can you stop this?" He demanded, snarling.

She smiled darkly.

Sylar's eyes widened, and he cried out in fear, dropping her in the process.

"No!" He cried. "No!"

She smiled again, and Sylar's eyes cleared.

"I think I can." She told him.

He looked at her for a long time. The silence stretched on, but this time, Nicole held her head high.

Finally, he sighed and nodded. "If anyone can stop me…" He extended a hand. "It's you."

She smiled and took it. "Same here. I'm not exactly able to defend myself against a ton of people at once, unless I lose control."

He smiled darkly and lifted the other hand, sparkling with electricity. "I think I can help in that respect."

She grinned, placing her hands at her sides.

* * *

Nicole raised her eyes as Sylar tapped on the window. There was a smile on his face. He gestured for her to come outside. She smiled and obeyed.

Once outside, he showed her a small, beautiful, purple flower.

She raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

He grinned. "A nightshade. I think it's poisonous, so don't touch it."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Why are you touching it, then?"

"Well, for one thing, I can't die."

She rolled her eyes. "So, what about it?" She asked, ignoring his reply and pointing to the flower.

He snorted. "Like you don't know."

"What?"

"Nicole, you're going to have to change your name. I already have, from Gabriel Gray to Sylar. Now, you're going to need something as well."

She looked at him. "Why would I need to change my name?"

"Nicole. We're running for our lives. If you keep your name, people can find you online. You, or your name, has a record out there somewhere." He rolled his eyes. "I thought that much was obvious."

She snorted. "Then why don't you change your name again? I'm sure the FBI has one or two things on record about a serial killer named 'Sylar.'"

He grinned, a dark, lethal smile that sent shivers down Nicole's spine. "Intimidation reasons. If you want to keep your next name, start scaring some people."

She rolled her eyes. "All right, all right. But what does a flower have to do with a name?"

He sighed. "Really, Nicole. Think for once."

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed again. "I think your new name should be Nightshade."

The other eyebrow shot up. "You want me to be named after a _flower?_"

He rolled his eyes. "It's a plant, Nicole. And a deadly one, at that." He shrugged. "I thought you'd like it."

She looked at the flower. It was beautiful, but lethal, like Sylar had said.

Finally, she smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Ok. Nightshade it is."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

Nightshade looked at Sylar. "No."

He looked back, concern in his eyes.

She sighed. "He has to know."

He nodded slowly. "All right. But if he tries to hurt you…" A dark tone entered his voice.

She placed a hand on his arm. "Just make sure he doesn't shoot me. I can handle the rest."

He looked at her for a long time. Finally, he nodded. "Go. I'll be here."

She nodded and walked towards the door.

Once in front of it, she took a deep breath. She probably stood there for a solid two minutes before she knocked.

"Just a minute!" She heard someone call from inside.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes, so blue they were almost violet.

His breath caught in his throat. "Nicole?"

Nightshade swallowed. "Hi, dad."

Her father's eyes narrowed. "What are _you _doing here?" he demanded. "I thought I made myself clear when I told you to _never _come back. Or do you need me to say it _again?_"

She flinched. "I just… just wanted you to know something. Then I'll leave, and never come back. I promise."

He looked at her for a long time, then finally nodded once.

She took a deep breath. "Zach's dead, dad."

His eyes widened, and he swallowed. For a moment, there was nothing but complete and absolute silence.

Finally, he spoke. "Good riddance."

Nightshade felt tears burning in her eyes. "You don't care that your own son is _dead?_" She demanded.

"That _creature _was _not _my _son._" He snarled in reply. His hand came out from inside the doorway, a gun in hand. "Now get out! Go! Leave, forever!"

The gun went flying.

Sylar came up next to Nightshade. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is there a problem here, Nightshade?" He asked, his voice dark and murderous.

Her father's eyes widened. "What… What are you?"

Sylar ignored him, looking at Nightshade. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, though the tears had finally managed to escape her eyes and were flowing down her cheeks.

Sylar turned to her father, a look of disgust plain on his face. "_You _don't deserve to be her father." He came a step closer, his hand lighting with a radioactive glow. "_You _don't even deserve to _live._"

"Sylar." Nightshade placed a hand on his. "Please."

Sylar glared at Nightshade's father for a long time, before suddenly turning around and walking away.

Nightshade looked at her father for a moment. "Bye, dad."

He looked back. Fear filled his eyes. "Nicole… he's a _killer_." He breathed.

She looked at him. Finally, she spoke. "Yeah. I know. But if I'm going to die, I'd rather be killed by someone who _isn't _my father."

He stared after her as she followed Sylar.

* * *

Nightshade couldn't hold back the tears, no matter how hard she tried.

Sylar sighed. "It's ok." He whispered.

She shook her head. "It's not. But thanks for trying."

He smiled softly, and there was silence.

Finally, he looked at her. "Everything will be different now. It's a clean slate. You have a new name. You are no longer Nicole, but Nightshade. You have a new life." He smiled. "It's a whole new year. A new world. You will never again be Nicole, a weak human who had a family and a different life. I know it's hard, but it _is _better." He smiled. "You are now Nightshade. One of the world's most powerful heroes. A master of fear itself."

She smiled weakly and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

He wrapped his arm around her. "Happy New Year, Nightshade."


	4. 2011

**July, 2011**

Nightshade _was _only twelve.

Maybe, just maybe, that was an excuse not to kill her.

Sylar gently stroked her hair back. She was fast asleep, her breathing deep and heavy.

He swallowed. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked in a whisper.

He kept stroking her hair away from her forehead. He thought he'd decided to kill her, but, looking at her now, it seemed impossible. Of course, he'd have to kill her in her sleep. And it would have to be fast, so she couldn't wake up and stop him.

A single, impossible strand of her hair was being irritating, falling into Nightshade's face no matter how many times Sylar brushed it aside. It didn't bother him too badly; right now, it was the only thing distracting him from the extreme power that was just a single murder away.

He sighed. Enough was enough. He had to decide.

He raised a single finger and pressed it against her forehead. This should be simple! He should just kill her and get it over with!

He stayed like that for a long time. There was nothing in his way. He could just take her ability and leave forever. He'd survived by himself for years, after all. He didn't need a twelve-year-old girl to help him!

He sighed and placed his hands by his sides. It was true; he _could _kill her and take her ability.

But he _wouldn't_.

Nightshade smiled softly. "Stop obsessing over my forehead."

He smiled. So she was awake. "Why don't you stop me, then?" He asked.

Her violet eyes snapped open. "I knew you wouldn't kill me." She kept her eyes away from Sylar, staring out into a distance that only she could see.

He smiled darkly. "And you knew that how, exactly?"

She turned to face him. "You want the truth?"

He nodded.

"I didn't know. I left the decision to you."

He smiled again and stroked her hair back once more. "I should kill you. It would end a lot of problems."

She looked directly into his eyes. "But you won't."

He sighed. "No, I won't."

She looked at him curiously. "Why not?"

He sighed again, staying silent.

"I mean, why did you decide to stop killing? There has to be a reason."

He looked at her.

"Well?"

He sighed once more. "Because if I killed all the heroes on this planet, the humans would kill the ones I didn't. And, eventually, me. I figured our side needs all the help we can get."

"But one twelve-year-old girl can't possibly make that much of a difference. Even one with my ability. If I died and you had my ability, there would be no loss."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've given this some thought."

She shrugged.

He looked at her for a long time, silence filling the air. She stared back.

Finally, he sighed and spoke again. "The last person I killed was an empath."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like Peter?"

He shook his head. "Different. Instead of taking abilities, she took emotions."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "What do you mean?"

Sylar sighed. "She could switch someone's emotions with her own." His eyes closed. "And, when she died, when I… killed her, she switched mine with hers." He closed his eyes.

"She was afraid." Nightshade realized. "So she made you scared. Like I do."

He nodded. "I was ready to kill her. She was terrified. So she switched our emotions. Suddenly, she was the killer, and I the victim." He sighed deeply.

She swallowed. "What happened?"

He smiled coldly. "Well, she couldn't exactly kill me, despite the fact that she wanted to. So I finished the job." He sighed again. "There's only one time I've ever been more terrified than I was at that moment. And that was when I met you."

She looked down. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Nothing you can do about the past."

"I guess."

For a long time, there was silence. It roared in Nightshade's ears as she tried to think about what he'd said.

Finally, Sylar sighed and spoke up. "You'd better get some sleep." He stood and started walking out of the room.

She grinned. "Promise you're not going to slice my head open?"

He turned and grinned back. "Promise."

And he left the room.

* * *

"That's a _huge _building." Nightshade breathed.

Sylar smiled. "Not afraid of heights, are you?"

She shivered. "Not yet."

"Oh, well, this should be easy." He held out his arms. "Ready?"

She paled. "We're _flying _up there?" She demanded.

He nodded. "How else would we get up there? You think we could just teleport?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. How would I know what you can do?"

He smiled. "All right. I can fly, tell when someone's lying, shoot electricity, move objects with my mind, explode radioactively, switch emotions with someone else, read minds, _influence _minds, paint the future, shift shapes…" His smile widened. "Think you can remember all this?"

She shook her head. "Sorry I asked."

He grinned. "Come on. It won't take long."

She shivered and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around her and took off.

It seemed to take forever. Nightshade gripped his coat so tightly her knuckles turned white. She even though she was holding on hard enough to break one of his ribs.

The air whistled by her with such a terrible force she was sure it would snatch her right out of his arms, and she'd be sent to the ground below.

She kept her eyes shut, never daring to look down. Despite this, the wind forced tears from below her eyelids, streaming down her face.

And then it was over.

A wave of calm crossed her. She _must _be on the ground now, or else she would still be scared.

She let go of Sylar.

"Shit!" Sylar swore as Nightshade began falling. She screamed, terror in her eyes.

Sylar dove downwards, holding out his arms to catch her.

She fell right into them.

"This time, don't let go." He hissed into her ear. They began to travel upwards once more.

She swore at least five times as he finally landed on the roof of the building. He gently set her down.

"You ok?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No." Her breathing came out in gasps. Her skin was pale, her eyes wide.

He stood next to her, a hand on her shoulder as she started to cough. "That's the last time I try and do you a favor."

"A _favor?_" She demanded in a snarl. "What do you mean, _favor?_"

He chuckled. "I swapped our emotions. Made you calm and me scared."

"Oh, brilliant idea!" she snapped. "Make the designated driver scared out of his skull!"

He rolled his eyes. "It doesn't work like that, 'Shade. It's not like your ability, where you can't stop being scared." He sighed. "I thought that I could get over being scared after a moment." He rolled his eyes again. "Didn't work out so well when you _let go_."

"I thought we'd landed!" She stood up straight, glaring at him.

He snorted. "Well, let's just say I'm never doing that again." He raised an eyebrow and pointed to her hand, which was still clutching his coat as though her life depended on it.

She stared at it for a long time, trying to remember how to open her hand. Slowly, carefully, one finger at a time, she let go.

Sylar raised the other eyebrow.

She smiled weakly. "I never want to fly again as long as I live."

He smiled. "Then how are we going to get back down?" He pointed over the side of the roof.

She looked down, turning even paler as she did so. "Ah. Ok. Never mind, then."

He looked at her. "Sorry. He just doesn't like low places. They make him feel… normal."

She looked at him. "And who is he?"

Sylar smiled and pointed. "Him."

She looked in the direction he'd pointed.

A young man with dark hair landed on the roof expertly. His eyes were hard, and he seemed to be trying his hardest to ignore Sylar, keeping his eyes focused on Nightshade.

But he couldn't ignore Sylar for long. He came over to the two of them, nodding to each in turn.

"Hello, Sylar."

Sylar smiled. "Hello, Peter."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Who's she?"

Nightshade bristled, but his hard eyes landed on her, and she found she couldn't talk.

"This is Nightshade."

"Hero?"

"Of course."

"Ability?"

"Creation of fear."

Peter raised an eyebrow and whistled. "And you haven't killed her yet?"

Nightshade winced, but Sylar shrugged. "I know. I should really do better than that."

Nightshade looked at him in surprise, but he was smiling. This must be how they always talked.

The other eyebrow went up. "Why not?"

Sylar shrugged. "Long story."

"Long day."

Sylar sighed. "I don't really want to go into it right now, Petrelli. Can you just tell me where they are?"

Peter sighed deeply. "Matt, as you well know, is dead."

Sylar smirked.

"Hiro's gone into hiding. Bought a new home."

Sylar tensed, his fist clenching at his side. "Don't tell me where he is."

Peter nodded. "The Original's still on TV. Completely oblivious, though most of us know that she's going to find out soon." He sighed. "There's a war coming, Sylar."

"And your brother?"

"Nathan? He's still in the air. Doesn't land unless he can help it."

"Claire?"

"She's… got a job."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Waitress, believe it or not."

Sylar sighed. "Continue."

"Niki… well, Niki's dead. Jessica's roaming the streets."

"Micah?"

"He's with Jessica."

"And DL?"

"Dead."

Sylar sighed again. "All right. Do you know where _he _is?"

Peter paled. "Unfortunately, no. He's been in hiding for years now."

"Who?" Nightshade asked.

Sylar looked at her. "The person who helped Peter gain control of his abilities."

"His name is Claude Rains." Peter intervened. "He's… an invisible man."

"And I was hoping he could help you." Sylar sighed.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You actually want to _help _someone? Someone that isn't _you?_"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Peter._ I wanted to help her."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "And you couldn't have asked me?"

Sylar snorted. "Don't make me laugh, Peter. You can't even keep your feet on the ground long enough to hold a civil conversation."

He turned to Nightshade. "Well, that was a total waste of time." He sighed. "Come on."

They started to walk towards the edge of the building.

"Wait!" Peter called.

They turned around.

He sighed. "Look, Sylar… if you _really _care about her, don't you think it's a little… dangerous for her to be around you? Even if you don't kill her, what's she going to be like after a few years of being near _you?_"

Sylar shrugged. "We'll make it up as we go along."

He wrapped his arms around Nightshade and jumped off the roof.

* * *

Sylar sighed as he sat down. "I guess this is my problem now." He swore. "I was hoping to find Claude. He'd be better at this than me."

"Why?" Nightshade asked.

He sighed. "Because Claude wouldn't want to rip your head open while he helped."

"Ah. Good point." She sat down next to him. "But you've managed for a few months. Maybe you're ready."

He sighed again. "Doubtful, 'Shade. There isn't a second that passes that I don't want to kill you. Do you really think I could handle it if I saw what you were _really _capable of?"

She shrugged. "Then we wait until you _are _ready."

"That day won't come. We have to do this, and we have to do it _now._"

She sighed. "Fine, then."

And darkness surrounded Sylar.

* * *

Sylar swore as the darkness retreated. "What was _that _for?" He demanded, his hand sparkling with electricity.

Nightshade shrugged. "Right now is as good a time as any."

He glared at her. "Very funny, Nightshade."

She rolled her eyes. "You were the one who said we had to start now."

His eyes narrowed, radioactive energy flaring around him.

The darkness enveloped him again.

When it disappeared, Sylar gasped. "Stop _doing _that!"

She chuckled. "Then don't threaten me."

He sighed. "Nightshade, this isn't a game. I could kill you."

"Then you have a new ability and the world goes on. One twelve-year-old girl doesn't matter _that _much."

He sighed again. "Very well. If that's what you think."

She grinned.

"All right. First thing is self-defense." He walked over to the light switch and turned it off, casting the two of them into darkness.

"Stop me from killing you." He said, invisible in the shadows.

Nightshade swallowed. Her mouth was dry. She hadn't expected to have to start on something this hard, _this fast._

She shook it off, her eyes straining in the darkness. She had to _focus. _

_Concentrate, Nightshade!_ Sylar's voice said in her mind. Presumably, he wasn't speaking so she couldn't follow the sound of his voice. _Don't use your eyes, it's pointless! Use your ability._

_How? _She wanted to demand. _It's useless! I can't use my ability to _see.

_Yes, you can. _He replied. _Just let go. Don't hold back. This is war, not a game._

She nodded. _O-Ok. _She took a deep breath.

_Focus! _He hissed.

She closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint Sylar's location. _It's not working!_

_That's because you think it won't. _He retorted. _You can do this, Nightshade. You are a _hero. _Not a human. Forget humanity, forget the past, forget everything! The only thing that matters is your ability. It's the only thing that will _ever _matter. _

She swallowed and closed her eyes again. This time, she didn't even bother to concentrate. She just let go.

After that, things were so much simpler.

Nightshade felt… inhuman. Powerful. Strong.

Her ability searched for Sylar, looking for any glimpse of fear.

And there it was. Directly behind her, burning like a white-hot flame. His fear pulsed towards her in a wave, one second there, the next, gone.

There wasn't much terror in the serial killer's heart. But everyone has nightmares. Everyone has something they're afraid of. That single fear was enough.

Nightshade whirled around and narrowed her eyes. She smiled in triumph as she heard Sylar's body crumple to the floor, heard his sharp gasp.

She let him go, and he flicked on the light telekinetically.

"Well. That worked." He said, shaking his head.

She grinned. "That was… weird."

He smiled. "I know the feeling. How you're no longer human?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Can we try again?"

He sighed. "Sure."

The light went off again.


	5. 2011 to 2012

**November 2011**

Nightshade had to admit, Sylar knew how to fight.

The days blurred into each other as time after time, she 'died' as his finger would raise level with her forehead.

But she was getting better. She no longer needed to be a weak human (though Sylar had her fight without her ability once or twice, just so she knew how). She was…

_Powerful. _

They'd left that old abandoned house months ago, unable to stay in one place for too long. War had not yet been officially declared, but it wasn't going to be long. Fights were everyday; and there was talk of separating heroes to different 'safer' countries, where they could create their own lives, their own government.

Bullshit. Nightshade knew the secrets behind the lies. A 'safer country' was somewhere like Antarctica, which would be nothing but water after a few years with fire elementals around. If they didn't die from the cold first.

Sylar swore. "There's cops everywhere." He hissed. "We'll never get anywhere tonight."

Nightshade sighed. "Outta my way."

"No. You're not ready yet." He held her back.

She glared at him, but he refused to let up.

"Well, I'm not sleeping outside." She said, shivering as the wind danced across her.

"I'm afraid we'll have to." He replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Not if I scare the crap out of a couple people."

He sighed. "You're not ready."

"Then when will I _be _ready, Sylar?"

He looked at her, and Nightshade realized the true reason he was refusing.

She swallowed. "Sorry." She whispered. "I didn't know." She carefully placed her hand on his arm.

He nodded, turning away from her. There was something terrifying in his eyes, a desperate need for something that he couldn't have without killing her. It would only make it worse if she managed to bring down every cop in sight.

"Come on." He whispered.

She sighed and followed him as they ran deeper into the shadows.

* * *

The concrete ground wasn't exactly a five-star hotel. Nightshade tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

"Want me to knock you out?" Sylar asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Sylar. Just find a pipe and bash my head in. What could go wrong?"

He chuckled. "Not what I meant." He came forward, hands slightly raised.

Cautiously, she let him place them on her face.

He closed his eyes, and in a second, she was asleep.

He grinned softly, then realized just how close he was to her ability, her incredible ability that had once killed him, a man who was immortal.

He hurriedly retreated, running away into the darkness, leaving her unconscious on the ground.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, naming reasons in his head why he _shouldn't _kill her. When he ran out of reasons, he started to count the cracks in the sidewalk below him. He got to five thousand eight hundred and fifty three before he stopped, unable to count anymore. His eyes hurt from straining in the darkness, but that need for her power was still there.

He swore, spitting out the worst words he knew. Today had been one of the harder days. He'd seen a lot of incredibly powerful heroes, and each one had just made it worse.

So why not just take the ability of the one who trusted him with everything she was?

His hands clenched into fists. This wasn't working!

So, what should he do? Leave Nightshade there?

He stopped dead in his tracks. It was the perfect solution. She'd wake up and find him gone. She'd probably be furious with him for a while, but she'd _live. _To him, she'd effectively disappear. He'd never know where she was, so he could never just find her and kill her.

He hadn't realized where this walk had been taking him until he was at the front door. He swallowed. Hiro had gotten this house the year before, needing to be around others with abilities, knowing that war was inevitable.

Sylar didn't even pause at the door. He just marched up to it and turned the knob. It was locked, so he telekinetically opened that and entered the house.

He couldn't think properly. He couldn't stop himself as he walked into a room, finding the teleporter sleeping.

A small smile passed across his lips as he raised a finger.

Hiro woke up screaming, and blood splattered across one of the pictures in the room. The crimson liquid seeped into the teleporter's bed, the sheets turning dark red as Sylar's hand continued to draw a line in mid-air.

And, abruptly, the screaming stopped.

* * *

Sylar wasn't particularly proud of what he'd done, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He walked over to the former teleporter's sink, washing Hiro's blood down the drain. His shirt was completely ruined, so he snatched one from Hiro's closet before he left. It didn't exactly fit well, but it was better than nothing. And much better than having a blood-stained one.

He closed his eyes, concentrating, and was suddenly somewhere else.

* * *

Things were much easier as he looked at Nightshade again. Of course, a part of him still wanted to kill her, but it was easier to ignore that part.

He only had a few hours of sleep, but it was enough. He was awake before Nightshade was.

He kept watch until her eyelids began fluttering open.

"Ugh." She whispered. "Never knock me out again. It's not fun."

He smiled softly. "You ok?"

She nodded, her violet eyes wide and questioning. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "Just… making sure." His smile widened.

She raised an eyebrow. "You're in a better mood than you were yesterday."

He shrugged again, not wanting to give her an answer.

Her eyes narrowed, locking on his cheek. "Sylar… is that… is that _blood_?"

His hand went to his cheek, and he brushed off the small dot of red blood, smearing it on his hand. He tried to act apathetic. "Mine, probably."

She shook her head. "Why would you be bleeding?"

Sylar cringed inwardly, not wanting her to figure it out but knowing it was inevitable.

Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "You… you _didn't!_ Sylar, tell me you didn't kill someone!"

He looked down, not wanting to lie to her.

"Who?" She demanded. "_Who, _Sylar?"

He sighed. "Hiro."

She all but fell backwards. "The teleporter?" She breathed.

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't want to…"

"Bullshit." She replied automatically.

He flinched. "Look, it was him or you!" He snapped.

"Then _next time, _choose _me!_"

"No." He hissed. "I've worked too hard to make sure you can defend yourself. You're only twelve, Nightshade. You can't die yet."

"Onetwelve-year-old isn't going to matter as much as someone like Hiro, understood?" Her eyes were like steel. "I have as much chance of dying as the next person!"

"Nightshade, I _won't _kill you!"

"Why not?" She demanded. "Tell me, why not?'

He looked down, not ready to give her that answer.

She glared at him, her violet eyes filled with hate and malice. "Sylar, tell me!"

"No." he whispered. "I'm not… not ready."

She rolled her eyes, storming off. He followed her. "Where do you think you're going to go?"

"Do I look like I care?" She asked. "Come on!"

He followed behind her, not wanting her to get any angrier than she already was.

* * *

The entire day had passed. Nightshade hadn't said a word to him that wasn't absolutely necessary.

She'd fallen asleep eventually, but he was still wide awake. He shouldn't care about this girl, or how she felt about what he did. He shouldn't care about anyone, or their lives.

He just _shouldn't care. _

The problem was, he did.

The hours crept on. He should probably tell her, but it was so hard. He wanted to say everything, to make sure there were no secrets. He wanted to talk to her. But he didn't have the courage to talk about it. Beneath all of the abilities, there was something weak, something he never wanted to reveal.

Finally, he gently shook her awake. She glared at him, but he knew that if he didn't speak now, he never would. She started to talk, but he got there first, placing a finger on her lips.

"Her name was Nightingale." He whispered softly.

She raised an eyebrow, unable to speak through his finger that was pressed on her lips.

He sighed. "You're so much like her, Nightshade. You don't even know it." He looked down. "She's the reason for your name. She suggested it once, for herself. It was similar enough to her own that she could get used to it quickly, and…" his words came out in a rush; he was so desperate to get them out.

She placed a finger to _his _lips. "Shh…" She whispered, moving her head away from his finger. "Just slow down."

He swallowed and nodded, and she removed her finger.

"She had a precognitive gift. Painting the future. I have it as well, from a man named Isaac Mendez." He sighed. "And she painted her future when this whole thing started. If she'd have lived, she would have shot her little brother, purely on accident."

She paled, knowing exactly how that felt.

He continued, trying not to look her in the eye. "We were… friends, I guess you could call it. I didn't want her to die, I had no reason to. She was nice enough, and always talked to me like I was someone… someone different. She didn't just think of me as a killer."

He looked down. "But when she painted that picture, she asked me to do something for her. She didn't tell me what it was; she just made me promise to do it. I agreed, and she told me to kill her." His voice had lowered to a whisper.

Nightshade's breath caught in her throat. "That's… horrible."

"I didn't want to do it. But she said she refused to become a killer. So I did what she asked." His eyes were distant, far away. "She was younger than you are, Nightshade." He closed his eyes. "Only eight years old."

Nightshade swallowed, holding back tears. Something in the way he said it made her heart skip a beat. He was really sorry for what he'd done. He truly wished he could change that, but it wasn't possible, and he knew that.

There was silence for a long time as the two of them stared into the darkness. Finally, Sylar couldn't take it anymore. "Please say something."

She remained silent.

"Please?" he asked again.

She sighed. "Sylar… I want you to know…" She looked down. "I wasn't really mad at _you._"

He raised an eyebrow.

She swallowed. "I was upset, not mad. And I was upset because… because you and I are becoming more alike. Just like Peter said. I don't care about human life, I'm starting to become more used to the idea of killing heroes, and I just don't know who I am anymore. There's nothing left of the old Nicole, it's all Nightshade."

He gently placed a hand on hers. "Sometimes, it's better that way." He said kindly. "You didn't ask for this war, it just happened. And now, you have to change because of it. It sucks, but it has to happen."

She smiled softly. "I guess."

There was silence for a long time.

"So… who was Nightingale?" Nightshade asked at last. "I mean, why would you promise to do something for her so willingly, without knowing what it was?"

He smiled sadly. "Because someone needed to trust her."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

He closed his eyes. "Because everyone else hated her."

"But… why?"

The sad smile appeared again on his face as he looked at her. "Because her full name was Nightingale King. She was The Original's younger sister."


	6. 2012

**February 2012**

Nightshade's violet eyes blazed, flickering from one person to another, both hero and human alike.

Something raged through her, blazing white-hot.

_Power. _

She was _powerful_.

The world around her was changing, twisting into something different, strange, new.

Suddenly, everyone and everything else seemed insignificant. She was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that would _ever _matter. Everything else was just in her way.

Darkness blazed in her heart, and Sylar walked up next to her. A dark, hideous, cruel smile crossed his face.

The war began raging around her. Blood and death and pain battled in rage and fury. Everyone was dying, but it didn't seem to matter. Their deaths meant nothing. _They _meant nothing.

Nightshade woke with a sharp gasp.

* * *

Sylar hadn't been able to sleep that night, and it was made worse when Nightshade woke, gasping and shivering. A sob found its way out of her throat.

He was next to her in a split-second (just because he wasn't proud of taking Hiro's ability didn't mean he wasn't going to _use _it). "You ok?" He breathed.

She jumped at his sudden appearance, but she was starting to get used to the idea of him teleporting, so she didn't try and kill him _this _time. She shook her head. "Just… a dream."

But her violet eyes were on the point of tears. He carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

And she started to cry. "What am I?" She breathed softly. "What am I?"

He brought her closer to him. "Who." He replied.

Her eyes locked on him, blazing with a fire he'd never seen. "But I'm not _human, _Sylar. Not anymore."

"Is that such a bad thing?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Think about it. Humans were the ones who started this war, weren't they? Isn't it _their _fault?"

She sobbed. "That's not what I mean, Gabriel."

Sylar stumbled backwards as though he'd been slapped. "_What _did you call me?" He breathed.

She looked at him, her violet eyes blazing with some unnamable emotion. "I called you Gabriel. That is your name, isn't it?"

"It _was._" He growled.

"Exactly!" She wrapped her arms around him. "What if I don't _want _to be Nightshade?" Tears streamed down her cheeks, staining his shirt. "What if you could go back? What if you could become Gabriel again?"

Sylar said nothing.

"What if you could change _again?_" She breathed.

She found herself flying.

"You have no _idea _what you're talking about, Nightshade!" Sylar cried. Hate filled his voice, but there was something deep in his eyes that Nightshade could not recognize. He started pacing. "I won't go back to _that. _Never again. Never again…" He kept pacing furiously, his eyes darting about, calculating.

"Go back to _what?_" Nightshade asked, chocking against the invisible hold he had on her throat as she stayed suspended in mid-air.

Sylar's eyes locked on hers, cold as ice. "To being that _weak._"

Nightshade looked at him with wide eyes.

* * *

Sylar said no more all day. Nothing about his past. Nothing about Gabriel. Nothing at all.

Nightshade didn't push it. She'd never seen Sylar so _furious _before that night, and she didn't want to see him that way again.

They continued walking, like they always did. Going from one place to another, never staying still, always running.

Sylar's eyebrows twisted in confusion. "Interesting…"

"What is it?"

He started walking in another direction. "This way."

She followed him without a word.

They found a crowd of people, crying out in anger, terror, hate, fear.

Nightshade shivered. "Sylar…" She warned. There were so many terrified people here; she was having a hard time controlling the power that was rushing through her in wave upon wave of energy.

"We won't stay long." He promised kindly. He turned to a hero, who had an ashen face and hollow eyes. "George! What's happening?"

George looked at Sylar like he couldn't see him. "What's happening?" he asked in a cracking voice. "What's _happening? _I'll tell you what's happening, Sylar. The humans have declared war."

"Officially?" Sylar asked.

George shook his head, his face pale. "No. But the heroes think it's about time the war starts. They've set up _Time Barriers, _Sylar. _Time Barriers!_ What's next?"

At the words 'Time Barriers', Sylar's face turned white.

"Sylar?" Nightshade asked. "What's wrong?"

"The filthy little sewer rats." Sylar hissed. "Those low-life, idiotic _bastards!_" he started to pace. "How dare they? _**HOW DARE THEY?**_**"**

Nightshade swallowed; she'd never seen Sylar this furious. "What is it?"

He whirled to face her, and she winced, expecting him to completely obliterate her, make her vanish off the face of the earth, such was the absolute loathing in his eyes.

But he just sighed and told her, "Time Barriers. They were experimental projects back in the old days, before this all happened. They stopped time travelers from teleporting, going backwards or forwards in time, that sort of thing. Because if they did so, they'd burn. Time Barriers took away part of their ability; the part that protected them from the time they were traveling through. Raw time energy is enough to destroy anything; heroes are no exceptions."

Nightshade winced. There was a kind of hideous fury in his eyes, a fury she'd never seen. Not when she'd talked about Gabriel, not when she'd told him to kill her, never.

She looked at the few humans in the place. They were all journalists or cameramen.

Nightshade looked at them for a long time. Once, a young hero had changed the world with nothing but an ability and a camera. Now, Nightshade could very well do the exact same thing.

Without looking back, without listening to Sylar's protests, she marched up in front of a camera. Her stomach was twisting, but she'd made up her mind. This was what she was going to do. There was no going back.

The cameraman turned to face the camera towards her, expecting her to do something interesting. Someone came up to her. "Hello? What's your name? How do you feel about what has happened?"

Nightshade didn't reply, instead standing in front of the camera with her eyes blazing.

It got unnaturally quiet as she stood there, waiting for people to be quiet. (Sylar helped with that, telling everyone to shut up as he tried to hear what she said.)

Nightshade took a deep breath and said a few words that would probably change history.

"Years ago, one person changed the world so completely, so terribly, that it could never go back. That person didn't see the carnage. Didn't see the little battles, didn't see the people being separated from their families as genetics did what they have always done."

She swallowed and continued. "Many of you here have never heard of a girl named Nicole. She was human enough, that's what everyone said. No one believed it, but it was said. But Nicole was far from human. She could control your worst nightmares, was a master of fear itself.

"Does this mean that Nicole was a horrible person, _just because she had an ability? _Logic says no. But the children, the teachers at her school, her very parents said _yes. _That she was a _monster, _at eleven years old.

"When a person is assumed to be a monster, that person starts to become the monster they are believed to be. Nicole found that out the hard way when, by a simple accident, she ended up killing her younger brother.

"Now. Many of you believe that could be prevented if the 'dangerous heroes were locked up.' Well, that, quite frankly, is _bullshit."_ This got a few cheers from the surrounding heroes. "Where will it end, if the 'dangerous' heroes are locked away? Heroes like a friend of mine, who used to be a serial killer, but has been trying to _change?_ Maybe that could be justified. People are scared.

"But then it happens. The children are taken, and force is used. Imagine your young child being taken away from you, forced from your arms as you stand there screaming, crying for your child that you will _never see again?_

"And then it won't stop. Then, the less dangerous heroes are cast out, and eventually imprisoned. Only those in hiding have a chance to survive.

"Now hear this, members of the human race! My name is Nightshade. But once, I was known as Nicole. A child who could control your very fear. I have seen what these wars can do to families, can do to lives!

And now you have put up Time Barriers. The separation has started. Time Travelers are 'dangerous heroes'. Therefore, they must be contained or destroyed. And you will never stop. It's human nature to be afraid of things you simply _don't understand. _

"But look at you! You are all sitting there, waiting for some official to come up here. Maybe you're waiting for them to say that everything is under control. In that case, you'll hear it every day, though it will never be true.

But maybe, just maybe, you're waiting for them to say that the wars have started. Well, you humans can be downright ignorant. What you don't want to believe, you block out. Because if no politician comes up on your TV and announces that war had begun between our species, then it isn't happening, correct?

"Wrong!" Cheers sounded from the audience once more. "Now hear this! We were peaceful! We never fought; we never wanted to hurt you! _You _crossed this line first! _You _did this!" More cheers, louder this time. "_This is your fault! You brought it upon yourselves!_

"Now _hear this! _We have been dying in vain for too long, fighting in vain for too many years!" The crowd of heroes was roaring in agreement. "No longer! You will not see an official-looking person in a black suit come up here and tell you that the war has _officially _started. You will not see someone who will lie to you and say that everything is fine. No. You will see a young girl, driven to desperation, being protected by a former _serial killer, _standing here before you, backed by many heroes-" At this, the crowd screamed louder. "And telling you what you have been dreading, never wanting to hear!

"It's official, humans! _**WE ARE AT WAR!**_"

The heroes shouted, fireballs sizzling in the air, shadows dancing in agitation, electricity flying, objects hovering, and people flying in the sky, crying out the truth at last, declaring war. The journalists hurriedly ran, not wanting to be the first victims in the newly 'official' war.

And, in all that, Sylar smiled slightly at Nightshade, nodding approvingly.

The war against humanity had begun.

* * *

"That was brave." Sylar whispered.

It was the first time they'd gotten to talk since Nightshade had declared war. Heroes had come to congratulate her, journalists had swarmed her, and the battle had begun.

Nightshade sat against the wall, exhausted. She wrapped her arms around her legs and placed her head on her knees. Sylar sat next to her, placing his arm on her shoulder.

"I suppose."

He raised an eyebrow. "'Suppose'? Nightshade, you declared war between two species. If that's not brave, I don't know what is."

She didn't smile. She was tired of smiling. She'd done it all day. And, all day, it had been fake.

Instead, she curled into a tighter ball and rested her head against his arm. "It doesn't change anything. These wars have been going on for years already. I just made it official." She sighed heavily. "And now more heroes will be taken from their homes. There's going to be more death, more destruction." She looked down. "I'm a _monster._"

Sylar wanted to tell her that this was outrageous; that she had never been a monster. She was only a little girl. She wasn't a _monster…_

But he couldn't. He knew she wouldn't believe him. Because he didn't believe himself.

"This war will make monsters of us all." He said instead.

She looked at him. "You know that better than I do." Her violet eyes locked on his. "Don't you, Gabriel?"

He looked back at her. She could see him warring with himself; decided if it would be best to just slice open her head and teach her a lesson, or if he should just let it go.

"I thought I asked you to drop it." Sylar said. The words were whispered, but Nightshade flinched as though she'd been slapped.

She sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Sylar didn't reply. The silence hung, almost tangible as they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Why did you do it?" Sylar asked at last. "If you thought it made you a monster, why did you declare war?"

Her eyes glazed over. "Because I wanted _him _to hear it."

"Your father." It wasn't a question. There was only one man that Nicole spoke of in that tone. The one of mourning, of loss, of hate.

Of fear.

"Yes."

"Why?"

She thought about this for a moment. "You don't… understand. You didn't… didn't see his face. When he realized who you were, that I was with a _serial killer." _She sighed. "He was so scared of you. Of me. Of what I would become." She looked at him. "I wanted him to know. To see that… that Nicole died. That there's only Nightshade now." She looked down. "I just wish I could believe it myself."

Neither of them said anything for a long time.

* * *

Sylar carefully placed Nightshade's head on the floor, making sure not to wake her.

He stood. It had been a long time since he'd been there, but he still remembered it.

He started walking.

* * *

The house looked different in the dark, but Sylar knew it was the one. He walked to the door and, without knocking, entered softly.

It seemed unnaturally cold inside, but Sylar didn't feel it. He hardly felt anything anymore.

The TV was on. Sylar looked into the kitchen, where a man was pouring water into a glass.

"Did you see her?"

The man jumped, the glass slipping from his hands and shattering on the floor. Shards glittered as they scattered across the floor, and the man whirled around to face him.

Sylar looked at the man's brilliant violet eyes, wide with shock and fear.

There was silence for a moment as each one studied the other.

"I asked you a question." Sylar said at last. "Did you see her?"

The man swallowed. "Nicole?"

"Nightshade." Sylar corrected.

His eyes narrowed. "Yes. I saw her."

Sylar took a step towards Nightshade's father, and he stumbled back. Sylar wanted to smirk, to laugh, even, at his fear, his terror. But some horrible fury was building in him, a monster he could not control.

"You know she did that because of _you, _don't you?" Sylar's voice was dangerously calm.

"Steven?" A soft voice called from a different room. "Honey, are you ok…?"

"Daddy?"

Sylar froze. He hadn't exactly been surprised when the wife had made an appearance. But the other voice, so small and soft, so curious and yet somehow terrified at the same time, was a complete shock to him.

He allowed his eyes to drift to the hallway, where a young woman was standing. She had dark black hair, exactly like Nightshade's, but her eyes were not the violet blue. They were a deep, dark brown.

But his attention was more focused on the little girl, standing next to her mother. She couldn't have been older than three, maybe four. She didn't look like Nightshade; the only resemblance was the brilliant violet eyes. Her hair was a soft brown, flowing down past her shoulders, and her skin was slightly darker than Nightshade's. She was looking at Sylar curiously.

Sylar swallowed, battling against the absolute fury coursing through his heart.

"Go back to your rooms." He ordered in a soft voice, his eyes locking on Steven. "You don't need to see this."

He could almost feel the wife's fear, but she started to direct the child back to the room. The little girl complained, but her mother would not hear it.

Steven now looked genuinely afraid as Sylar walked towards him. His hands were crackling with electricity. Hate and loathing burned in his veins.

"You going to kick her out too?" He asked. His voice was deathly quiet, a dangerous sound filled with pure venom. Steven flinched as though he'd been struck. "Are you going to exile that little girl to the life that you gave your other children?"

"She's human." He replied weakly.

"_HUMAN?_" Sylar roared. "Since _when _did that _matter?_ She was your _daughter! __**YOUR DAUGHTER!"**_

Steven backed into the wall as Sylar continued walking towards him, his steps purposeful, slow, and calculated.

"_She _is." Steven countered, though he still looked petrified. "Nightshade was not."

Sylar just froze. Seeing this, Steven continued.

"Nightshade was a _monster._" His words came out in a rush. "She was _not _my daughter…"

He never got to finish his statement. Sylar came forward so quickly that it took him off guard. His arm pinned the man's throat to the wall behind him, lifting him up into the air.

"She is no _monster_." Sylar said, revolted. "_You _are."

Steven just choked.

"You are _disgusting_." Sylar continued. "And that's coming from a _serial killer._"

He released his hold on Steven, who collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.

"I was right. You don't deserve to live." Sylar knelt down next to him, at eye level with him. "And you _never _deserved to be a father, least of all _hers._" He stood.

"I should kill you now." Steven looked at him with wide eyes as a brilliant, radioactive light flared across his fingertips. "But Nightshade would be mad at me." Sylar continued. "And you have a daughter to take care of." His eyes locked on Steven's. "But if she has an ability, and I find out that you left her out in the street, I _will _come back. And I _will _kill you. No matter what Nightshade says."

Sylar turned around, walking to the front door, when he saw her again. The small child, so unlike Nightshade, yet so similar.

He walked over to her slowly. Her mother was hovering over her protectively. She looked absolutely horrified as Sylar came towards them, but he shot her a look and she kept quiet, speechless.

He knelt down at eye level with the small child. "Hi. What's your name?"

He spoke in the soft, friendly voice one would expect when someone speaks to a small child. Or would expect, had the person speaking not been a serial killer.

She nervously looked at her hands. "Alyssa."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. The mother looked like she wanted nothing more than to destroy Sylar, but she found herself sliding away slightly every time she tried to come closer.

"That's a nice name." Sylar said, smiling at her. She smiled weakly back, clearly unaware of who he was or why he was talking to her.

"Well, Alyssa." He continued. "I know you don't know what I'm talking about right now, but I want you to listen carefully to me, all right?" He smiled again. "Can you do that for me?"

She nodded timidly.

"Good girl. Now, I'm just going to…" He placed his hands gently on her face. The mother gasped and tried to run towards Alyssa, but Sylar's telekinesis held her back, and kept her from saying anything. He wasn't hurting Alyssa; he would never do that. Not to a child. Not anymore.

"It's ok." He whispered softly as Steven tried to run towards him as well. Sylar did the same to him as he had to his wife.

"Now. If you find that you can do something… strange, something _special, _then you call me, all right?" he closed his eyes. "Just say you need me. This will do the rest."

Alyssa's eyes closed for a moment, and she drew in a sharp gasp. After a second, Sylar opened his eyes and she did as well. He took his hands from her face.

He turned to her parents. "Oh, relax." He told them, his eyes burning fiercely. It surprised even him how quickly his anger rose again. "I didn't hurt her. I left _that _job to you."

He turned around and walked out, releasing Steven and his wife as he did so.

* * *

Sylar sat down next to Nightshade. She was still asleep. Her breathing was slow and even, so calm and peaceful after the inward struggle that she must be having, day after day.

He lifted her into his arms gently. She was a lot smaller than someone her age should be. She was so thin and pale. She didn't look like she was thirteen; maybe ten.

So small.

So powerful.

_Not tonight. _He pleaded wearily. _Please, not tonight._

But that ache was coming back. Nightshade, the powerful little child in his arms. The little girl who trusted him so completely, and yet he could destroy right here, right now. The little girl with such power in that small head of hers, power that he could just take from her…

He looked away, closing his eyes, trying desperately to ignore it. Hadn't she been through enough?

_Yes. So wouldn't death be the easy option for her?_

_Not death by my hand. _He argued with himself. It wasn't a rare occurrence.

_It could be an escape. She really doesn't even _care _if you kill her. If she did, she would have left, all those years ago._

_She trusts me not to. _

_Does that matter? _

_YES! _

Sylar was surprised by the ferocity of his own temper. It _mattered _that Nightshade trusted him. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted to give her a _reason _to trust him.

_Why?_ He asked tentatively.

That was the question, wasn't it?

_Why _did he want her to keep trusting him? Why did he _care?_

Sylar kept absolutely still while his thoughts battled and raged against each other. A deep, throbbing ache pounded against his head. Surely it would just go away if he killed her. He could do that. He was a serial killer; no one expected any more of him than that…

"Why are you so scared?"

Sylar jumped, his eyes darting down to Nightshade's face. Her eyes were open, staring at him curiously.

He smiled. "You're awake." It was easier to keep himself from killing her if he was reminded _why._

"That's not an answer." She told him.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the critical tone. "Why do you want one so badly?"

"Because." She replied, bringing her hand up to his face, curiosity bright in her eyes. "I haven't seen you this scared in a long time."

"I'm not scared." It was true. Sylar was furious. He was desperate to hold back the need for her ability.

But he was not _scared. _

"Liar."

He looked at her. "I'm not."

"Uh-huh. I believe you instead of my ability. That's gotten me far in life."

He smiled softly. "Are you sure it's me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It couldn't be anyone else." Concern flashed across her face. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her. "Nothing. That's exactly it. I'm not scared."

Her eyebrows twisted in confusion. "But you _are…_"

He sighed. "Maybe." He whispered. He'd been denying fear for so long, who was to say he wasn't doing it now, simply out of habit? "There are just a few… things on my mind."

Nightshade looked at him, then closed her eyes and said no more.


	7. 2012 to 2013

**December 2012**

Nightshade blinked, coming awake slowly.

"Welcome to the end of the world." A voice whispered.

Nightshade smiled. "'Morning, Sylar." She sat up.

He smiled back at her. "Well, it's official. Everyone thought the world would end today."

"They got that one wrong, didn't they?" Nightshade chuckled.

He smiled softly, but it slowly began to look more strained. No one should be forced to live in this world, the one that had already ended.

_And her world will end soon, won't it, Sylar?_

Sylar tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. At this point, he genuinely hated himself. He really did.

And he knew that she would hate him. She would hate him so badly.

He smiled at her anyway as she got to her feet.

There was only one thing he could do for her now.

"Listen, I was hoping we could… you know. Work on your self-defence."

She raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're ready for that?"

He sighed. They hadn't practiced anything that had to do with using abilities lately; Sylar hadn't felt he was able to.

But he nodded. "I think it's important that you learn."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "More important than surviving. I'll keep that in mind."

He smiled at her again. "Shall we?"

"If you insist." She flicked out the light.

Sylar grit his teeth. _Now, you idiot! Do it _now, _while she thinks it's all just a game! While she believes you're harmless…_

_NO!_ He snapped back. _She's on alert. She would be ready to fight back! Even you can see the sense in that!_

Sylar had always had two parts of him, arguing against each other. The one that wanted to destroy Nightshade, take her ability. And the other, the one who saw her as an actual person, saw her as _alive. _

But, over the past few weeks, another part had emerged. The one that told him to run and hide. To run away from Nightshade, and her ability. The coward that he had suppressed for so long.

The coward that was speaking now.

_Go. While she can't see you. Get out of here, get out of her life! She doesn't need you anymore; she's gotten better control over her ability!_

_She wouldn't last two seconds out there!_

_Exactly! So destroy her! Put her out of her misery! You know it's going to happen if you __**stay. **_

_Then don't stay. Run. Get away from her!_

_NO! What could you possibly gain by letting her go? NOTHING! You're _weak, _Sylar. Is that what you want? _

_**SHUT UP!**_

"Sylar? Sylar, are you ok?" Nightshade's voice was laced with worry.

Sylar lashed out. He heard Nightshade gasp as he flung her to the ground. A metallic tang filled his mouth. His vision, what little he had in this darkness, was a red haze. All he could see, all he could think and all he could feel was blood and death and murder.

Her murder.

Nightshade's piercing scream ripped through the air. Sylar couldn't think about what he was doing. She had to die; there was nothing else he could do. He needed her power, he needed to be like her, to be so special.

To be the master of fear! The screams grew louder. Sylar stepped forward, next to her in a second, his hands close, ready to search through her mind. Something wet and sticky flowed onto his hands as he placed them on her throat…

"GABRIEL, NO!" The anguished cry tore through Nightshade.

Sylar froze. The sound of blood dripping to the floor filled his mind. Nightshade's screams ended, to be replaced with a harsh and hideous gasping.

Sylar backed away. His hands were covered in blood.

The light came on. He looked at Nightshade. She was covered in crimson, looking at him in fear. Fear, her own element that had turned against her.

His eyes widened. "Why didn't you stop me?" He asked. His voice cracked.

She didn't get a chance to reply. Sylar ran away, ran out the door. He didn't stop. He couldn't. He just kept running.

"Sylar, wait!"

But Nightshade's cries clawed at his heart. He couldn't face her. He couldn't. He kept running.

_What have I done? __**WHAT HAVE I DONE?**_

* * *

Nightshade sat perfectly still, waiting and hoping for someone to come. She didn't know what she wanted to happen. She didn't know if she wanted them to be a human, one who might take pity on her when they thought she was just a hurt little girl, then realize what she was and just destroy her. Destroy her like he had failed to.

If a hero found her, the pity wouldn't end. They wouldn't kill her; she'd be left alone in this war, in this life that she hated. This life that was hard enough when she was with Sylar.

How much harder would it be now she was alone?

She chocked, her blood flowing onto her lips. She wiped it off in disgust. Sylar had been the person who kept her from crying, kept her from being hurt too badly about her past. Because she didn't want to look stupid in front of him, to look weak.

There were other options. Maybe no one would find her. Maybe she'd just bleed to death on this stone floor.

Or, maybe she would get up. Go look for help.

Or maybe Sylar would come back and finish the job.

Nightshade closed her eyes. Of all of the maybes, that one was the most painful. She couldn't stop him if he tried to kill her again; she didn't know how she would be able to.

Maybe it would have been easier if he had just killed her in the first place. He'd have an ability, and life would go on.

For him.

Not so much for her.

She placed her head on the floor. At least if he'd killed her, she wouldn't have died for nothing. She wouldn't have died hidden in some corner, concealed in the dark. Part of her would have stayed; the ability. This war could continue with a hero like her, a hero who could control fear.

That would have been better than just dying.

She curled into a ball. Her heart skipped as she sobbed. Everything _hurt. _She was in so much pain. She hated that pain, hated what had happened.

It wasn't long before someone found her. She'd looked up hopefully, wishing it was Sylar, hoping he would help her…

But her heart lurched as she recognized the face that greeted her.

"Nightshade? Is that you?"

She didn't reply. She wanted to be left alone.

"Oh, shit. Are you ok?"

She let out a muffled sort of groan, but said nothing.

He bent over and lifted him into his arms easily. She curled into an even tighter ball, the blood still running down her face. She didn't care anymore. She just didn't care what happened.

* * *

Peter Petrelli gently wiped off the gash on Nightshade's forehead. He said nothing as he did so, but she could practically see the 'I told you so' bursting in his lungs.

She wished he'd just say it already. Yes, he'd told them that this was dangerous. But Nightshade hadn't cared, and she still didn't.

"He's coming back, you know." She whispered the words.

Peter looked at her in shock. "Hey. Back from the dead, are we?"

"He's coming back." She repeated.

Peter's eyebrow shot up. "Nightshade… he tried to kill you."

Her violet eyes glittered angrily. "Yes. He tried. But he failed."

Peter looked at her incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm _kidding, _Peter?" She hadn't meant for the words to be so harsh.

He stared at her for a long time. Finally, he sighed. "I won't pretend to know what went on between you two. But, whatever it was… Sylar cared enough to run the first time. Maybe… maybe he cares enough to stay gone."

"DON'T!" The words felt like a knife through the girl's heart. She stood, screeching. "He'll come back, Peter! He will!" She started to sob, though whether it was from the throbbing in her head or the hurt from Sylar's betrayal, Nightshade did not know.

Peter came forward, wrapping his arms around her. "All right. All right. I'm sorry…"

She cried into his shoulder, and for a long time they just stood there. The broken-hearted little girl and the man who wanted to help.

* * *

_WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?_

Sylar kept running, though Nightshade had long ago disappeared from behind him. Now there was only the torture of his own mind, screaming at him in rage.

_Why would you just leave her? YOU COWARD! You could be so much stronger now, you could have her ability!_

"NO!" The word found its way through Sylar's lips and he took off, launching himself off the ground.

_Prove you're not a coward! Go back! Go back and FINISH THIS!_

_**NEVER!**_

Sylar flew higher. He stopped abruptly, and allowed himself to free-fall…

_What do you think is going to happen? You're just going to kill again, even if it isn't her!  
_

_No!  
_

Sylar crashed to the ground. He cried out in pain; a rare occurrence these days.

He waited until, with a series of sickening _cracks! _and _pops! _His body healed itself. He stayed there, in his own blood, for a very long time.

"Oh, crap… are you ok, man?"

Sylar didn't know what happened next.

No one knew who the man was or who had murdered him. They knew he was human; his DNA proved that much. But he was found the next day, the top of his head severed.

_I will find you, Nightshade. _The monster in Sylar screamed. _And I will have your power._

* * *

Sylar stumbled into the house. There was paint splattered everywhere. He knew that no one had lived here for years, ever since a young girl named Nightingale was shot in this very room.

He ran around like a crazed man, pulling out paintings and discarding of them almost instantly. Finally, he found a blank canvas.

His eyes turned a pearly white, and he tore around again, searching for a paintbrush, and finally, paint.

Nightingale King watched him from a painting, her small eyes locked on him as he began to spill the future onto the blank white.

He didn't stop for a long time. Hours upon hours, painting upon painting. He didn't stop, he couldn't. He just kept working.

The sun had set and risen again in the sky before Sylar had finished. The cloud over his eyes dissolved. Sylar collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes and clutching his head. He stayed like that for a moment, unable to open his eyes, which had been staring into the future for so long…

Finally, he stood again, tentatively cracking his eyelids open. It burned, but he could see through it.

Violet eyes stared back at him, blood pooling around them.

He stared at the other pictures. The same violet eyes stared back, the beautiful violet eyes that he knew so well.

Blood pooled around them. It was a horrible dark crimson that somehow shone against the dark of the night, shone against those small violet eyes.

Sylar backed away from the painting until he tripped onto the ground. "This can't… can't happen…"

His hands touched cold metal. He cringed away from it, then turned to see what it was.

A gun. The same gun that he'd abandoned here, hidden with the paintings of futures that had or would come true. Hidden with dark memories. Hidden with the thoughts of Nightingale King.

She had once chosen to do something so bizarre, so ridiculous, that it saved one life and took another. She had chosen to die.

Sylar brought the gun to the side of his head. That wouldn't work; there would just be a huge mess to clean up.

_ARE YOU INSANE? _The monster and the coward screamed at once. For perhaps the first time ever, they agreed on something.

That the third part was insane. That this was a ridiculous idea.

But that part was the one in control. Sylar ignored the others.

Maybe it would be for the best. This war needed people to fight in it. They would hardly have that if he kept killing them all, would they?

He'd always had the thought; 'survival of the fittest.' That the species had to adapt, had to survive. Maybe the death of one would help save the lives of thousands. Save his species from complete extinction.

The gun telekinetically moved to the back of his head. He had one shot at this. Only one. If he missed, the other parts of him would feel this pain, turn it against him. He had to act now.

The gun hovered steadily against his head.

His last words were almost involuntary. He didn't know why he said them, but he knew they were true. They came out in a whisper, a last, soft, desperate plea for help.

"I'm so afraid."

There was a brilliant flash of light, and it was all over.

* * *

Nightshade screamed.

Peter ran into the room. He tried desperately to shake her awake, but the child just kept screaming, tearing at the blanket that she'd managed to find once, a long time ago. Tears streamed down her closed eyes.

"No, Sylar, _NO!_" She cried into the night, her voice ripping through the darkness. "_PLEASE!_"

She screamed again, her violet eyes snapping open.

Her screams ended in heart-wrenching sobs. "Why would you _do _that?" She demanded of thin air. "Why would you do that?"

Peter looked her in the eyes. "Do what?"

She didn't reply, only sobbed harder.

"Nightshade, do what?"

She looked back at him, her usually brilliant eyes now hollow. "Why would he do that, Peter? _Why?_"

* * *

Coming back to life was not pleasant.

It wasn't like waking up; it actually _hurt, _which was worse when you normally didn't feel pain.

Feeling your heart start again was the worst part. It was always confused on what your body wanted it to do, and would lurch into existence. It sent pain stabbing through your chest, blazing like a fire.

Feeling the blood rush to your veins again wasn't necessarily fun, either. After not using them for a while, it sincerely _hurt. _

Sylar knew the feeling, though not too well. He'd planned on keeping it that way. His vision slowly returned as his eyes began to heal. He felt the wound on the back of his head slowly close.

"Get up."

They were the first words his newly healed ears heard. He listened to them carefully.

He felt strange, disoriented. His head was throbbing.

Something wet and sticky met his hands. Sylar recoiled; it was natural instinct. But he knew what blood felt like. He didn't really care much about it.

The fog drifted from his eyes. A young child was standing in front of him. A _very _young child. Probably no older than four.

"I said get up." The words came through the child's lips. His expression was hard, his black eyes glittering. He kicked Sylar in the ribs. "_Get up._"

Sylar didn't even feel the kick. He slowly sat up, looking around in a daze. "Where am I?"

"Where else? The house of the long-respected, long-hated, and long-dead King family." The small boy mock-bowed.

Sylar looked at the boy. He knew those black eyes. Knew the hard face, the steely gaze that showed too much intelligence for such a young age.

But from where?

Sylar slowly got to his feet. He saw the gun on the floor and remembered how it had gotten there.

He sighed. "Look, I appreciate you bringing me back to life and all that, but I was actually _trying…"_

"To die?" The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"I know."

"Then why did you…?"

"Bring you back?" The boy cut him off again. "Simple, Sylar. I'm repaying a debt."

Sylar looked at her, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

"You saved my life. Now I saved yours."

"What makes you think I saved your life?" Sylar asked. His voice was deathly quiet. "What makes you think I saved anyone? What makes you think that I'm not just a _monster? _In fact…" He walked over to the little child, towering above him. "What makes you think I won't just kill you now?"

The boy smiled. "You won't."

Sylar was surprised by his confidence. True, Sylar had no intention of killing him, but he wasn't supposed to know that. "And how do you _know that?_"

His smile widened, somewhat irritatingly. "Because I know the future, Sylar. I knew that you would come here and I knew that you would fire that bullet into your brain. I knew that you would kill yourself, and I know that you will leave here with no blood on your hands that is not your own. I know this because I have been here…" he gestured around the room, at all of the paintings. "For years. I have thought and re-thought each and every possible future in these paintings. I know what the future holds." His eyes met Sylar's. "However, this knowledge comes with a cost. I have not been able to leave this house, with all of its shadows and all of its memories. Because I was not meant to. I was meant to stay and listen, to hear people scream as time claimed their life." He sighed. "Nightingale painted the future. I heard it. The little glimpses, the snatches of memory. And my mind contained it all, remembered it all, recognized _it all. _I know what every word means, because I have needed to know."

He smiled darkly as he continued. "Though made me grow up just a little… _too _quickly, I suppose. But this is war, and it waits for no one."

Sylar just stared. "Who _are _you?" He blurted out.

"I believe the word you are looking for is 'what', actually." He commented dryly. "But if it's my name you are searching for…"

Sylar gestured for him to continue.

"I am Adrian."

Sylar stumbled backwards as the realization hit him. Yes, he recognized those diamond-hard, glittering, fierce eyes. Yes, he recognized that brown hair, sticking up all over the place. Yes, he recognized that hard mask of a face that looked so wrong on a child his age. And yes, this boy had owed him a debt, had owed him his life, though Sylar would never have thought it would come back to that.

Because he was Adrian King. Nightingale's younger brother. The reason Nightingale had asked to be killed.

The boy smiled. "It seems that you remember me." He said softly.

Sylar swallowed. "I didn't think… I didn't…"

Adrian chuckled. "It's all right, Sylar. You didn't think you'd ever see me, though I have always known we would meet eventually."

Sylar looked at the boy. His life had been saved by one stupid, ridiculous choice. An option that was never meant to be taken. His sister had done so much for him, worked so hard to save him.

But now he realized. Looking into this little boy's diamond hard black eyes, he knew. He would rather have died himself then to know, then to live through these years, day after day, knowing that it was _his _fault his sister was dead, knowing that it was because of _him _she had died.

The pain had been suppressed, hidden, locked away in Adrian's mind for so long that he no longer knew what it was. He didn't seem to care, but there was a dark and hideous nightmare locked within the child's life.

Which brought Sylar back to the reason he had wanted to die. Nightshade.

What if she found out what he had done? What if she realized his reasons? Would she be as plagued by these nightmares as Adrian was? Would she end up like him, locked away, looking at the rest of the world with a cold and calculating stance, never caring, never trying to help, never able to do anything?

Sylar didn't say anything else to Adrian. He simply turned around and walked out of the room.

The little boy didn't seem to notice. His obsidian eyes were once more locked on the paintings, both his sister's older ones and Sylar's new additions.

Sylar took a final look at him, pausing in the door. Adrian's lips were moving as he murmured to himself, questioning things out loud and listening to what went on through time.

Sylar walked out of the door, leaving him with nothing but memories of the sister who died to save him.

* * *

Nightshade hated heights.

She hadn't been particularly fond of them since her catastrophe with Sylar the last time. But now, she genuinely hated them. Peter flew much faster than Sylar did, and he didn't seem to have as much concern for her fears. This was war; there was no time for concern.

She didn't know how she'd gotten herself into this situation. Standing, so high above the ground, with a battle raging around her.

Hero and human clashing, the war raging, Nightshade ran. She weaved in between each and every person there. She didn't care who they were. She didn't' care about their past, she didn't care about their lives.

Maybe this was exactly what she needed. A fight. A battle. A life-or-death war that would keep her mind off of Sylar.

But he was there, even in the war.

Her hand slammed into a human's face. He looked too much like the man that Sylar had killed, after refusing to kill her. He was a persistent little bastard, despite his bleeding nose, he came back for revenge.

She whirled, kicking his legs out from under him. She tried so hard to focus all of her anger, all of her rage, and all of her fury against Sylar onto this man. But she couldn't.

He was just another person. Someone else who had been swept into this life, this life that couldn't even be called a life.

It was a living nightmare, and it had kept Nightshade prisoner for far too long.

There were really only three heroes here. Andy, with an incredibly pathetic ability that caused him to be exiled from his family nonetheless, Peter, and Nightshade.

But there was a man that Nightshade could call neither hero nor human. He was a traitor. A hero on the human's side.

Nightshade had called him many things, none of which were pleasant, before she'd stopped his heart.

But not before he'd gotten the advantage. Not before he'd helped the humans capture Peter. Capture him; because they could never kill him.

Not before he'd taken away the only person who still _cared._

Nightshade launched herself back into the fight. She hated that hero. She hated these stupid humans. She hated these wars. She hated this world, a world that had changed so much in such a short time.

She hated the steadily-healing gash on her forehead. She hated the aching hole in her heart.

And she really hated Sylar.

She tried to push the thoughts aside, but every time, it all came back to him. Why did that idiot have to kill himself? Was it because of _her?_ Why would he do that for her, when she knew he would never do it for anyone else?

_Why?_

She kicked a man in the stomach, sending him to the ground before slamming his head into the concrete. What else could she do now? Nothing but fight, throw herself into as many battles as she could find, attack and defend until her luck ran out.

It was exactly what she _had _been doing all along. Only now, there was no one else there to help her. Now, there was no one to say that this fight wasn't worth it, that they didn't need to take this risk.

Now, that was all up to her.

* * *

Sylar couldn't help but wonder why he was going through so much trouble for this girl.

She was just another hero. She shouldn't matter this much. She just shouldn't.

So why _did _she?

Why did he _care?_

Sylar rejected the idea immediately. He didn't care about _anyone. _He couldn't. He never would, never again.

Because people who cared were weak. They left themselves open, venerable to attack.

_What attack?_ A new part of Sylar, one he didn't know existed, started to speak up. _If Nightshade was going to attack you, if she was going to betray you and just _kill _you, she would have done it a long time ago. _

_That's not what I meant. _He shot back.

_Then what _did _you mean?_

_If I _did _care about Nightshade-which I don't- then it could be used against me. Someone could threaten her, kill her to get to me…_

_You really are a shallow son of a bitch, aren't you? _

_I don't need your opinion! _

Sylar was surprised how much of a conversation this had become. Yes, he often argued with himself, but this didn't really seem like _him… _

"Oh, rats." A voice said behind him, a slight mocking edge to it. "You caught me."

Sylar whirled around, and a young woman dropped down from a building, out of a window that wasn't too high off the ground. She smiled at him. "I thought I would last a little longer then _that. _You're pretty good at this."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

She smiled. "Straight to business, then, eh? Well, Sylar, it's nice to meet you. I'm Ally."

Sylar glowered at her. He hated it when people knew his name. "Ability?"

"Telepathy. And you know how things work, don't you?"

Sylar was seething. He didn't like this woman, for some inexplicable reason. She was just… _irritating. _Thought that was often the way with telepaths. No one liked it when people had their secrets revealed to a complete stranger, and Sylar was no exception."Yes."

"Yeah, sounds like the normal case." She tossed her hair back behind her shoulders, as though it was a nuisance that she had to rid herself of. "So, who's this 'Nightshade'? A girlfriend?"

"Not as such, no." Sylar replied through clenched teeth. He hated people who got into his head. Especially if it was without his knowledge or permission.

Ally's head tilted to the side.

"Will you get out of my head?" he roared. He shot a bolt of electricity towards her, but she just danced aside, unaffected by both the blow and his anger.

"My, my." She remarked. "Rather hostile, aren't we? There's something in your head that you don't want me to see." She grinned. "Too bad."

His eyes narrowed. He had already been furious; it only grew worse with each word this woman spoke. "Don't make me kill you, Ally. The heroes need all the help they can get."

"Which is your justification for not killing this 'Nightshade.'" Ally completed with a smirk. "Oh, I'm good."

He glared hatefully at her as she continued to sift through his thoughts. He tried to block her out, but her ability was stronger than Parkman's had been.

"Let's see… Ah, you don't want to kill her… but you _really _want that ability… I can see why. Creation of fear!" She whistled. "Powerful stuff." She concentrated for a minute, then her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, no. No no no no. Impossible." Her eyes focused on him. "You really care about this kid, don't you?"

"No." Sylar replied quickly. Maybe too quickly; Ally's smirk grew even wider.

She looked at him. "Amazing. This kid actually _trusted you."_

A low, harsh noise was building in Sylar's throat; something close to a growl.

"And _that's _why you can't kill her." Ally continued.

"I can kill her, Ally. But like I said, the heroes side needs…"

"All the help it can get. Yeah, I know." Ally rolled her eyes. "Look, if you're going to deny the real reason you don't want her dead, then you need to at least figure out a better excuse then _that._"

He glowered at her. "And what, exactly, is the 'real reason'?"

She smiled. "Because she _trusts _you. She's the first person in the world who _does._"

He raised an eyebrow. "You seem to." He replied, somewhat weakly.

"I don't trust you out of the goodness of my heart, though." Ally replied coolly. "I _know _that you're not going to kill me. If you were, you're thoughts would betray you." Her eyes locked on his, serious for once. "She, on the other hand, has no way of knowing if you're going to kill her in her sleep."

"I don't see why that matters."

She rolled her eyes again. "Think about it. What happened the first time she met you?"

"She told me to kill her." Sylar retorted.

"And when you refused? Did she run away from you?"

He looked down. "No."

Her smile widened. "And when you told her to leave? What did she do?"

Sylar looked back at her. That was the strange thing about telepaths. He'd only known Ally for a few minutes, and she already knew _everything _about him. "She asked me for help."

"_Exactly._" Ally said. "And when was the last time that happened, Sylar?"

For that, Sylar had no real answer.


	8. 2013

**April, 2013**

"Where are we going?" Ally asked, skipping up next to Sylar.

"_We?_" Sylar asked. "There is no _we, _Ally."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. I repeat; where are we going?"

He turned to face her. "Look. I don't need someone else to take care of, all right? Go find someone else."

"Hmmm, let me think. Nah, I'm good here." She kept skipping as Sylar walked.

Sylar muttered something about taking her ability, but said nothing further. He couldn't keep making excuses. He couldn't keep threatening to kill her. Because she knew it wasn't true. Despite his best efforts, and despite how incredibly annoying she was, Sylar couldn't feel angry enough to kill her.

And she really_ was _incredibly annoying. Almost every word out of her mouth was about Nightshade. Asking him when he would try and find her again, asking what he thought would happen when he did. It was never 'if' he would look for her. It was always 'when.'

It had taken many half-hearted attempts at killing Ally, a few months, and a lot of swear words before Sylar had finally accepted that Ally was going to stay until Sylar found Nightshade. Though he would never admit that he'd accepted her out loud, no matter how pointless it was. Ally already knew that he was used to her presence, simply because she'd plucked the information from his mind.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me where we're going…" Ally interjected, pulling Sylar out of his thoughts. "Then I'll get inside your head and find out for myself."

Sylar shot a bolt of electricity towards her, simply out of habit. Like always, she side-stepped the blue energy and continued skipping. "Fine. Be that way."

Sylar felt her sift through his thoughts until she found what she was looking for. She smiled. "Ah, good. I think a hero-human fight will do you some good. After all, you keep talking about killing things. Me, mostly, but still…"

Sylar rolled his eyes as she kept rambling. Despite how annoying it could be, Ally was very good at one-sided conversations. Over the weeks and months that he'd known her, the irritation at every word she had slowly died down. Her voice had slowly begun to numb his brain, and he'd often start her talking just so he didn't have to really think about anything. Of course, she knew this, but she had the sense not to mention it.

It was probably the only thing that Ally _did _have sense about. Anything else about Sylar's life was yammered about until she was too exhausted or Sylar had forcibly sealed her lips. Nightshade was the one she discussed the most, but it wasn't the only thing. And, unlike Nightshade, she never really seemed to understand the danger in mentioning Gabriel Grey.

But Sylar knew that she _understood. _And she understood perfectly. She just didn't seem to care. And, she knew that Sylar wouldn't kill her, his own thoughts betrayed that.

But she was right about one thing; Sylar did need a proper fight right about now. A fight with people he could actually destroy. A fight with humans, because heroes were just so annoying.

Though it would have been better to get into a proper hero-to-hero fight. It almost made him wish Peter Petrelli was there, that the two of them were at each other's throats again. A real battle, where Sylar could nuke someone without care, where he could really use the full potential of his power…

"Sylar."

He jumped. He'd almost forgotten Ally was there. She looked at him pointedly.

"They're only human." She said softly.

He looked at her for a long time, as though trying to understand what she'd said. Finally, he turned and started walking again.

Ally tentatively re-started her ramblings, but she kept shooting glances in Sylar's direction. Sylar said nothing; he didn't really want to talk at this moment.

Suddenly, Ally froze. "The battle's over." She said in a whisper. "We lost."

Sylar swore. Stupid humans with stupid guns who knew where to aim!

The two of them just stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say.

"Did anyone stay behind?" Sylar asked at last, hoping that he'd get a chance to destroy the humans who had destroyed other heroes…

But Ally shook her head. "No. There weren't too many left and… and they disappeared pretty quickly."

Sylar sighed.

* * *

Ally kept walking; she'd dropped the skip after she'd heard the battle end in the thoughts of the two surviving humans.

She looked at Sylar's hand as he walked next to her. She wanted to help him. He'd been counting on this battle; it was one that the heroes had needed to win. Besides that, she hadn't been kidding when she'd said it would do him some good. The man had been so torn apart by what had happened with Nightshade, and hurting things was really the only way he knew how to deal with something like that.

Normally, she would have slapped that out of him. But this was war, and that could be a very useful trait in certain situations.

She kept staring at his hand. She wanted to put her hand on his, to tell him it would be all right. But the question remained; how did you comfort a serial killer?

The hand balled into a fist. Ally sighed; he must have realized her intentions.

They said nothing for a moment, and finally, Sylar's hand relaxed. Slowly, he held it out for her, though she could tell it was hard for him to do.

She smiled and took it. Sylar closed his fingers around her hand awkwardly; he was used to Nightshade's smaller hand. And, he was used to comforting _her, _instead of the other way around.

They kept walking for a minute.

"So, where are we going now?"

Sylar didn't object to her use of the pronoun; not this time. "I'm not entirely sure."

Ally thought for a minute. "There's a restaurant, not too far from here. A human one, of course, but no one really knows I'm a hero. And you shape-shift. There's a TV and everything; it's where I used to catch up on news."

Sylar thought for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "Very well." He gestured for her to lead, casually releasing her hand as he did so. Ally smiled, but didn't object.

She started her babbling conversation again; she knew it helped him. Though he would never admit it to her. Not out loud.

"This is where I saw her declare war, you know. Though I never caught her name. I didn't really see much of it; I just kept catching glimpses as they kept repeating it. I didn't even know she was _your _Nightshade until about a month ago. You know, that's something I've always wondered; did you tell her to do that? To declare war?"

Sylar realized she'd paused in her talk to hear an answer and shook his head slowly. Ally continued.

"So she did it herself, huh? Kid's got guts, I'll give her that. Though I guess you have to, if you want to be friends with a serial killer. Especially one like you."

She continued in this manner until they reached the restaurant. It was a small place. The lights were a dim yellow, and the tables looked very dusty under their strange shine. Ally turned to Sylar to make sure he'd changed his form. Sure enough, he now had a much paler face, brown hair, and grey eyes that were identical to Ally's own. Maybe he was trying to pass off as her brother or something.

They sat down at a small table for two. Sylar glanced over the menu, and Ally did the same. She'd gotten much quieter as soon as they'd come inside; this place had that kind of atmosphere to it. A waitress hurried over with glasses of water.

"_And, in other news, this is a controversy if ever I saw one. Heroes being made to fight against each other! Why?"_

Sylar's eyes lifted to the small television in the corner of the ceiling. This was half of the reason he'd agreed to come, after all.

"_You'll never believe this one. For __**entertainment.**_**"**

Sylar looked at the TV in disbelief. Ally felt nauseous. She didn't even turn to face it.

"_The idea started with the capture of a hero named Peter Petrelli."_

Sylar's hand tightened on his glass.

_"Apparently, one of Peter's abilities was cellular regeneration. In other words, he could heal himself from any injury. Therefore, he was unable to be killed._

_"Now, many heroes of this type _do _have a weakness. A certain spot that can be used to destroy them. However, this particular hero also had shape-shifting, an ability which enabled him to move the spot to another place. This kept humans from being able to kill him._

_"The solution? Many suggested imprisonment. However, this hero has shown himself capable of escaping many cages. So what is being done about it? You may not believe the answer._

_"It seems that other heroes are being captured, and then made to face each other in a real 'battle to the death.'"_

The glass shattered in Sylar's hand. Ally looked at him worriedly. She could see the images of heroes fighting, being forced to destroy one another, reflecting in his eyes.

_"This idea was first put into action for military purposes; it was believed that, if humans knew how heroes fought, this could be used against them. However, a new use for these fights has been found._

_"That's right. Entertainment. Many find it fascinating to see what would happen if heroes were actually turned against each other._

_"But still others have objections, saying that this is cruelty. That it's wrong for us to do this to people who are so close to human._

_"And yet, it can not be forgotten what they think of us._

At this, the scene changed, to a little girl. Ally knew this part of the speech well, so she needed only to imagine her face, filled with rage and anger. "It's official, humans! _**WE ARE AT WAR!"**_

A waitress on the other side of the room looked as though she was about to clear up the glass and water that was the result of Sylar's lapse in control. Ally shot her a warning look; it was best not to go near him, especially if he was staring at Nightshade's face, the only part of her speech meant in real hate being used against their species.

Sylar's hand sparkled briefly.

_"We shall be monitoring this situation carefully. And, in other news…"_

Ally didn't hear what happened 'in other news'. Sylar's eyes were still locked on the TV screen as he talked, and his words were as hard as steel. "Are there any heroes in here, Ally?"

She jumped, then hurriedly listened in to each and every thought there. "Ummm… one. The guy in the corner over there." She gestured vaguely.

Sylar nodded seriously. "Get out of here. I'll give you three minutes."

Ally listened to his thoughts, her eyes widening. "Sylar, no. That's not the way to do this…"

His eyes flickered to hers at last, and she trailed off, unable to speak while staring into the darkness in them.

"Yeah, Ally. This isn't the way to do it. They're 'only human', right?"

She winced; he was using her own words against her. She sighed. "Just… don't do anything you'll regret."

"Believe me. I won't regret this."

Ally nodded and stood up. She pick pocketed a human as she went, taking his keys and reading his mind to figure out which car was his. She stepped over to the one hero in the group.

"We need to get out of here." She whispered to him.

His eyes widened. "I'm sorry…?"

"No time to play dumb." She hissed. "Just come with me, hero."

His eyes grew even larger. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Yes you do. You're a pyrokenist. I'm telepathic. Now let's _go._"

He didn't question her any more. He stood and followed her as she walked out the door. They were almost stopped by a waiter, who obviously wondered why they were leaving without paying their bill, but Ally changed his thoughts, making him believe that they had already paid, and that they'd come in together.

She ran to the car and hurriedly got in the driver's seat. The other hero did the same.

"Seat belt." She warned, then started the car.

She drove as quickly as she could away from the restaurant. The hero put his seat belt on as quickly as he could as she swerved in and out of everything, driving like a maniac.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"As far away as we can get from that place in three minutes!" She replied, turning the wheel quickly, the car turning left sharply.

"Why?"

"Because a friend of mine just got some very bad news!"

* * *

Sylar sat completely still. Only a minute had passed. He slowly began to clear away his side of the table, moving the shards of glass and wiping up the water that had been spilled.

Carefully, he stood. His movements were precise and calculated as he stepped over to the door.

One of the waiters, the same one that had been about to stop Ally, started to walk towards him. But Sylar didn't leave. Instead, he closed the door, telekinetically locking it from the outside. With a small flash of light, the lock melted into a thick, drizzling goo, then solidified. This went unnoticed by everyone.

"Can I help you, sir?" The waiter asked. Sylar didn't reply. Instead, he walked back to his table. He sat down without a word.

Two minutes. Sylar glanced at the menu again, but he wasn't really seeing the words.

He spent the remaining minute pretending to read the menu while the waiter discussed his behavior with his fellow workers.

Finally, Sylar stood up again. His index and middle fingers twitched once.

The TV came crashing from its area of the wall. People jumped, and one or two let out a small, involuntary scream. A few people laughed it off; it was just a freak accident.

Sylar smiled and sat back down. A freak accident. Let them think that.

He waited until someone had finished eating. The human stood, paid, and walked to the door, before finding that he couldn't open it.

Two waiters and a waitress examined the lock before they realized. They looked around.

They knew. They knew that someone, somewhere in here, was a hero.

He saw the nervousness creep into their eyes, the terror become evident as they saw no one.

And then the waiter identified Sylar. The strange man who had walked to the door, closed it, and sat back down…

They looked at him, and Sylar smiled darkly.

His hand twitched.

They all dived down below the counter, and Sylar laughed.

His laughter grew, louder and louder. Sylar began to glow softly. And then the glow intensified, growing brighter and brighter, hotter and hotter. His face began to bubble and change, transforming back to his original form.

That was when the screams began.

* * *

Ally saw the mushroom cloud.

"He couldn't have picked something less _dangerous?_" She demanded as she swerved around another car. The hero in the seat next to her looked as though he would be sick.

She knew that the radioactivity wouldn't spread very far. That Sylar would control his ability enough to destroy the restaurant and the restaurant only. Sylar had wanted other heroes to get away, had only wanted to make the humans in there pay. Because they were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Ally almost felt sorry for them. But, at this moment, she couldn't really feel sorry for a human.

She swore as she completed a sharp turn. The tires squealed in protest to the harsh treatment.

She kept driving.

* * *

The human police tried so hard to destroy Sylar. After all, he had just nuked a public place.

But they couldn't. Sylar had demolished so many of their cars, and about fifty of _them, _before he had calmed down enough to end this mini-battle.

So he just started walking away. He walked into the city, his clothes torn, burnt, and bloody, covered in bullet holes. Though not all of the blood was necessarily his own.

He walked until he was lost in the crowd, though he did draw many stares, covered in crimson and holes as he was.

He quickly found some new clothes, though. It was easy enough to simply walk into a store and take them out.

But Sylar's mind was not on the cops, who were trying to find him and kill him without hurting any humans. His mind was not on the people he'd just killed, destroyed without a thought.

His mind was on a young girl named Nightshade. On what she would think if she could see him now. Would she have agreed with him? Would she have _helped _him? Or would she have been furious with him?

He hurriedly changed into the fresh clothes, his mind teeming with so many questions about one young girl.

But perhaps the biggest question he had was also the one he'd been avoiding for months. Where was she now?

* * *

Nightshade carefully hid the blanket in the alleyway, after taking it out of her backpack. She was going to spend another night on the hard, cold, asphalt, with rocks sticking in her back. She normally didn't mind it, even if it did bruise and cut into her skin.

But it was bothering her more and more these days. Mostly because of Sylar. Because he wasn't there. Because he would never be there.

She'd long ago realized that Sylar wasn't going to come back. But she didn't _accept _it.

She sighed as she spread the blanket out. She hated having to sleep; it made her vulnerable to attack. And all the time she was wasting, just lying there!

She sighed again. She didn't used to mind everything this much. She didn't used to care this much. But now, everything just seemed a lot worse than it already was.

Because he wasn't there.

* * *

Sylar walked, the darkness covering him.

"Got us a car."

Sylar jumped as Ally's voice pierced through the shadows. She stepped into the light from a street lamp and tossed a pair of keys in his direction.

She smiled at his startled reaction. "What? Did you think I was just going to abandon you? No way. You're stuck with me. Until death or Nightshade do us part."

He glowered at her as she whirled around, walking in the direction of the car she'd stolen earlier. "Shall we, then?"

He looked at the keys, then held them out for her. "You go."

She raised an eyebrow. "A-_hem. _What part of 'until death or Nightshade do us part' don't you understand?"

"The part with you in it." He tossed the keys back to her. "Go, Ally. I'm better off on my own."

"Sylar, you haven't gotten me to disappear for months. What makes you think you'll do it now?"

He came towards her. "Because if you don't, I'll kill you."

Ally swallowed. "You're not lying." There was a deep note of hurt and pain in her tone, in her soft grey eyes.

"I don't want to kill you, Ally. But I _will. _If I have to."

She stared at him for a very long time. There was no lie in his eyes, and certainly none in his mind. Ally searched desperately for a weak spot, for some way through his barrier, but there was none. His mind was made up.

She looked at Sylar, then at the car.

"I'm giving you a chance, Ally. That's more then most people get." Sylar's tone was like ice. "Go."

She looked at him one last time, then whipped around, walking towards the car, not wanting him to see the tear streaming down her face, the one tear that had slipped past her control.

She got into the car and started it, wiping her eyes as she did so.

Sylar appeared by the window on the passenger's side. He opened the door and sat down, but Ally knew that he had no intention of staying.

"I'm really sorry about this. But I can't hurt anyone else."

"Too late." Ally replied bitterly, trying to push him out of the car. He stayed where he was, unaffected by her shove.

They stayed in stony silence for a minute. Finally, Ally spoke. "I know what you think, Sylar. I don't know why you think that way. Go find Nightshade. Do some good in your life." She glowered at him. "And when you've done that, don't forget about the stupid little telepath who actually thought that you might have really _changed."_

She slammed her foot on the gas pedal, and when she shoved Sylar this time, he fell out of the car. She closed the door and drove off into the night.

* * *

Sylar hadn't wanted to do that to Ally. He really didn't.

But he'd seen something. Something so amazing, something so strange, something so horrible and so absolutely _wonderful _that he couldn't let Ally stay. She had to leave. Because this was the choice that Sylar had to make.

He'd kept it hidden, under a thick, impenetrable barrier, to make sure she didn't know what he'd seen, that she didn't know why he'd asked her to leave.

That she didn't know about the person he'd seen, lying in the dark alleyway, her eyes closed.

Sylar walked back to the alley, watching in the darkness as the person's breathing became steadier.

He probably stayed there for around four hours, trying to gather all of his courage as he stared at the small, limp form. Finally, he walked over to it, very slowly and very carefully.

Her violet eyes snapped open. Sylar froze.

She sat up quickly, looking at him in disbelief. "Sylar?"

"Nightshade…" the word escaped from his lips involuntarily.

Her eyes were wide, filled with pure shock. She wasn't asking any questions, not yet. She wasn't telling him to leave, or telling him to kill her. She wasn't doing anything.

Sylar's eyes drifted to the scar on her forehead. It was longer than he'd thought. It blazed a brilliant crimson against her pale skin. And it was his fault, all his fault that the imperfection was there. It mocked him, taunted him.

Sylar turned and ran.

"No!" Nightshade called after him. He heard her scramble to her feet. "Sylar, _please!_" Her cries tore through the air, ripping through the shadows like a blade.

But Sylar kept running. He hated himself for it, but he could not go back. He couldn't face her; he couldn't look at what he'd done to her. Done to that small, fragile, simple little girl. The girl who deserved a better life than this. Better than this war. Better than this darkness.

Better than him.

He kept running. He could hear her behind him, sobbing as she lost him a second time.

* * *

Sylar didn't stop running for a very long time. Two straight days, in fact.

It was strange, really, how much things seemed to matter one moment, then change so completely the next. Not too long before he'd seen Nightshade, all he'd cared about was the murder of the humans in the restaurant.

Now, it was different. Because now, all he cared about was _not _caring.

He swore; he'd gotten rid of the only thing that could have helped him. The only thing that kept his mind numb, kept his thoughts away from the little girl with the powerful ability and the bright, crimson scar on her forehead…

He thought about what he'd said to Ally, why he'd told her to leave. Why he would have killed her if she didn't.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Ally." He whispered to the darkness. "I'm just a coward."

He saw headlights flash behind him, and a silver car pulled up next to him, slowing down as it did so. He recognized it, but he couldn't quite believe it until the window rolled down to reveal the driver.

Without a word, Sylar opened the door and sat down.

Ally looked straight at the road, her grey eyes very soft as she spoke. "You're not a coward, Sylar."

Sylar looked at her.

"You're just scared." She completed, not turning to face him.

The silver car vanished into the night.


	9. 2013 to 2014

**October, 2013**

Ally never seemed to run out of things to say.

She never stopped talking, never stopped blabbing about whatever thought came to her mind. Sylar's past. His future.

So naturally, Halloween gave her something else to jabber on about.

"Ew, look at that kid! Wow, seriously, don't get into your mom's makeup. Woah, protective mother alert! Oh, hey, now that's no fair, that kid looks exactly like you, Sylar! That is messed up! You know, I never really liked Halloween. Actually, if I'm honest, I _hate _it. I mean, come on! It's kidnapper city! These kids are walking right to your _door, _for crying out loud! Plus, some kid came to my house in a really freaky costume once when I was little and I totally freaked out. Man, I would have thought that these humans wouldn't have let their kids out! Oh, hey, I wonder if any of them are heroes?" Her eyes darted about, and Sylar knew she was reading the minds of anyone she could see. "Yep, that kid there is one, oh, hey, there's another! Ouch, his mom doesn't know. Tough luck."

Sylar smiled very softly, allowing her voice to seep into the corners of his mind. He sat back in the car seat, slowly starting to relax as Ally's ramblings began to numb the aching questions he still had.

"You know, I'm surprised that these idiots are still celebrating Halloween. It's really stupid, if you think about it. I mean, Christmas I can understand, because Christmas so awesome and you don't even have to leave your _house. _Oh man, it was so cool, this one time, my mom got one of her friends over to our house and he did this _amazing _light show and everything. He was only human, of course, but he had this little flashlight-battle with green and red and…"

Sylar sat bolt upright.

She looked at him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He looked at her. "I never really asked. You had a family."

Ally raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Sylar. I had a family. I think everyone does."

Sylar sat back again. "It's interesting, that's all."

"Wow. You are weird."

Sylar smiled, and Ally began her one-way conversation again. But now his curiosity was growing. Ally seemed indifferent to Sylar talking about her family, but he'd seen it. The briefest spark of panic in her eyes.

Ally had spent so much time talking about Sylar's past. Maybe, just maybe, she'd been avoiding her own.

* * *

Nightshade hated Halloween, even more than she hated heights.

She whimpered as she ran, stumbling under the surge of fear that kept crashing over her head in wave upon wave of energy.

She ran into the darkest, strongest room she could find.

She gasped. There were so many people out there, alone and afraid.

Nightshade sobbed as the power struggled to take control of her. If she lost control now, there would be so many new murders on her hands.

She screamed in agony, pounding her fists against the walls, fighting to remain in control of her ability.

_"No!"_ She screeched. "Do you hear me? _NO!_"

But the fear was so incredible, so powerful. She sobbed.

_"Mommy, I don't want to go to sleep. I'm scared of the dark."_

Nightshade screamed.

_"But you can't be a hero! You _can't _be!"_

She slammed her hands into the walls again, crying out. "_No! _Please, just stop! Just _stop!_"

_"Daddy, I can't stop it! Help me, please!"_

_"He changed you, Alyssa. I'm sorry. But I can't help you anymore."_

Nightshade's violet eyes burned with hatred. "Father." She hissed.

But her thoughts were drowned out by the thoughts and fears of others.

"_But I don't want to die…"_

_"Don't throw me out in the cold. Please, not again. It's not my fault!"_

Nightshade's eyes were wide and staring. Now, she no longer only heard the fears. She saw them.

A young child came closer to his mother as one of the costumes scared him.

A hero looked at his glowing hands in hatred, pleading with his friends to understand.

A human backed into a corner to get away from a hero, hiding behind a mask.

"_NO!_" Nightshade felt her heart splutter and skip as she struggled. The energy taken from these fears pulsed over her, wave upon wave of it crashing down on her. There was too much energy, too much power in the child's hands…

It was her first Halloween without Sylar, the first time she'd been forced to endure this alone.

She hated him for this. She hated him for leaving her to struggle against the ability she had no control over. It was easier if he was there, because she could focus all of the energy into him.

Because he couldn't die, even when his heart stopped.

But now she was left alone. Now she had to keep every fear locked away, all of the energy had to be kept away from all those outside.

And so she stayed there, locked inside a room, screaming.

Because Nightshade was terrified.

* * *

Sylar heard a child shriek in surprise and winced. The little boy ran away, probably taken off guard by the 'scary mask.'

"I don't blame him." Ally blabbered on, listening in to both the boy's thoughts and Sylar's. "He's only… what? Six? A little young to be seeing something like that, I mean, _I'm _scared of that. Poor kid's probably traumatized for life, and I don't think the parents are going to think too much of it, oh no, it's just a little kid being afraid of something he shouldn't!" She spat out the words with such venom that Sylar looked at her, surprised by her tone. But Ally continued, not seeming to notice or care.

"After all, a kid's fear is nothing! Hey, why not, every kid is afraid of the dark! It doesn't mean anything that your kid is! Cause they don't want anything to be wrong, so they fool themselves into believing there _isn't _anything wrong, and it's all _lies!_"

"Ally."

Ally looked at Sylar, seeming to notice him for the first time. She turned back to the road. "Sorry."

Sylar looked back at the road. For the first time since he'd met her, Ally was driving slowly. She preferred driving as though someone was chasing her. Maybe she thought someone was.

There was silence for a very long time.

"Oh, _crap._" Ally said suddenly. "Sylar, you didn't think that particular fact was important enough to _mention?_" She swore. "Sylar, why would you leave Nightshade alone like that? On _Halloween? _There are so many scared kids out there…"

"I know." Sylar said.

Ally looked at him. "Sylar, you have to find her."

"She'll figure it out."

* * *

_"She'll figure it out._"

Nightshade gasped; it was the first proof she'd gotten that Sylar was alive since she'd seen him run away from her a few months ago. She'd started to think she was imagining, dreaming, but this proved it.

Sylar was scared, too. Terrified, even. _"She'll figure it out." _The words rang through the girl's mind. They were meant to be so indifferent, so nonchalant, but there was a deep, instinctual fear in them.

_"She'll figure it out._"

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. He was right. She had to figure it out.

A blazing, icy pain spread through her chest as she fought to take control. _I am not human. I am a hero._

She took a harsh, ragged breath, and let out a long, piercing, drawn-out scream.

She opened her eyes. They blazed violet against the dark night.

She stood up straight, the power rushing through her fingertips. She looked down at her hands. She could practically see them glowing, if only faintly. The fear pulsed around her like a living thing, and she was in control of its movements.

And then she collapsed again.

_She'll figure it out. _

* * *

Ally parked the car and closed her eyes. "Night."

Sylar glanced at her; it never ceased to amaze him how quickly the telepath could fall asleep. She was out like a light in barely a minute.

Which was just fine, considering what he wanted to do.

Sylar looked at her. Her telepathic defenses would be down; after all, she was dreaming.

He closed his eyes and entered her mind.

* * *

_**January, 1996**_

_A young girl sat at the table, keeping her eyes on the vegetables her mother had told her to eat. She was five years old, as of yesterday. She had short, blonde hair, and small grey eyes. _

_She picked at the green, leafy substance half-heartedly. "I'm not really hungry." She said softly._

_"You always say that when there are vegetables." Her mother said dismissively._

_The small child winced at the word 'always.' She didn't like that word. And her parents said it a lot._

_She forced herself to eat the green stuff. It tasted like a lawn, in her opinion, but apparently, lawns were 'good for her.' Though that hadn't stopped her parents from stopping her when she had really _tried _to eat the lawn._

_

* * *

_

_Her mother smiled softly at her. "Ally, sweetheart, it's time for bed."_

_Ally turned to face her mother, her grey eyes pleading. "Do I have to?"_

_"Yes."_

_"But he's up there! And he'll be mad at me!"_

_"Honey, why would your imaginary friend be mad at you?"_

_"He's not imaginary!"_

_The little girl was unsure of how many times she'd had this conversation with her mother. Each time, her mother insisted that this was 'all in her head', that he was her 'imaginary friend'. Because that's what all little kids did. Played with imaginary people that their parents couldn't see._

_But the outcome was the same as usual. Ally hid her tears, and chocked back a sob as she walked to her bedroom._

_She paused by the door, then opened it slowly. _

_She looked around, and walked slowly to her bed. She breathed a sigh of relief._

_"Hello, Ally."_

_The little girl jumped and cringed at the voice that appeared from thin air. "You going to take me away yet?" She tried to make her voice sound bitter, angry. She'd seen it in movies; they tried to sound mad so that they looked braver than they felt. _

_"No, not quite yet. But we're still monitoring the situation."_

_"I'm five."_

_She often had to remind him of this fact; she was, indeed, only five years old, and had no idea what large words like 'monitoring the situation' were supposed to mean to her. _

_She heard him chuckle, and the other end of the bed sank as he sat down. "Of course. I'd forgotten." She felt his hand ruffle her hair in an annoying way. Like how a friend of her parents would. The words, 'she's so adorable!' normally followed with such friends, but that wasn't the case this time._

_They stayed there in silence for a minute. _

_Ally's mind strayed to her parents, who were in the other room, watching a movie. They never believed her when she spoke of the invisible man. They never understood why she was so terrified of the dark. They didn't know what she did, and when she tried to tell them, they passed it off as an 'overactive imagination.'_

_But she did not have an 'overactive imagination.' She just knew more than they did. Because she saw more. _

_More importantly, she _heard _more. Almost as though no one was speaking, but she heard them talking anyway._

_Though the invisible man, the one who always came to see if he needed to take her away, to put her in a cage, didn't know that._

_

* * *

_

_**April, 2001**_

_The day Ally realized what she could really do came with a sense of fear that she had never experienced. _

_She'd never thought, never imagined that she could read minds. _

_She did the first thing a ten-year-old child would do if they realized something like that. She told her parents._

_She'd been dreading their reaction. Dreading what they would think of her. What if they thought she was a freak? Or that she was lying?_

_But what really happened was something less than what she'd expected._

_"That's nice, sweetheart." _

_Ally looked at her mother in shock. Her eyes hadn't lifted from the book she was reading._

_"I'm not lying, mom."_

_"I know you're not."_

_"I'm not kidding, either."_

_"Of course."_

_"Mom, I'm not _playing. _I'm serious! I can read minds!"_

_"You said that, sweetie."_

_"Mom, why don't you believe me?"_

_"I do believe you."_

_"You don't!"  
_

_Her mother sighed in exasperation. "Why don't you tell your invisible friend about this? Maybe he can read minds too."_

_"He can't read minds, mom, that's not his power! He's invisible!"  
_

_"Well, why don't you discuss 'powers' with him?"_

_"Because he's not my _friend!_ What does it take for you to believe me? Do you want me to _prove _that I can read your mind?"_

_"Honey, please. I'm trying to read."_

_

* * *

_

_Ally slammed the door behind her._

_"Telepathy." The invisible man's voice seemed to echo around her. "Interesting."_

_She whirled around, looking for the source of the sound. "I don't know what you're talking about!"_

_"Of course you do, Ally. You were just telling your mother that you can read minds."_

_"It… it was a joke! I was playing!" Ally whimpered._

_"That's funny. It didn't sound like a joke."_

_"Just leave me alone!" _

_"I'm afraid I can't do that."_

_"Then… Then I'll… I'll…" She held up her fists in an attempt at bravery. "I'll fight you!"_

_The man chuckled. "Oh, Ally. Don't make this harder on yourself. We just need to have a few things checked out, and then life will go back to how it was."_

_Ally froze momentarily. "You mean… I won't be able to read minds anymore?"_

_"Well, no. You'll keep your ability; we can't do anything about that."_

_"Then how will anything be 'back to how it was'?"_

_"It'll be all right. Just hold still."_

_Ally saw him inject the needle into her skin before it happened. She saw it, heard it, in his thoughts. _

_She ducked away from it. The man swore as he missed._

_"Hold still!" He barked. But now Ally knew. Now, she knew what she had to do._

_She listened in to his thoughts, trying to see where he would go next. He aimed in one direction, and she shot in the other, then bolted for the door. _

_She cried out as his hand latched on her wrist. She whirled around and, with as much force as a ten-year-old could use, brought her fist to his face. It was enough to stun him, at least, but he didn't let go._

_The needle came down to her arm. She slammed her hand where his must be, then yanked the needle out and threw it to the ground. But this came with a cost as she stumbled into a shelf, knocking a picture frame to the floor, where the glass inside it shattered._

_"Ally!" She heard her mother cry from the other room. She saw her mother's panic-stricken face as Ally lifted up one of the larger glass shards to defend herself._

_"Ally, what are you __**doing?**__" Her mother roared. She came foreword and yanked the glass out of her hand._

_"He's here, mom! He said he needed to take me back, take me to The Company, because I can read minds!"_

_"I have had enough of this nonsense! The invisible man is not real! And YOU CAN NOT READ MINDS!" _

_Her mother bent down to pick up the shards. The invisible man was remaining quiet; he seemed to have no objection to her mother's statement. Ally saw the front door open and close behind him as he left._

_"I can too!" She said suddenly, turning to face her mother. "And you're scared! You think I'm crazy! You think that this 'imaginary friend' thing has gone on too long, and you think it's your fault, because you 'encouraged' it!" Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. "And it __**is **__your fault! It's all your fault! Because you didn't __**believe **__me, and he's going to come back! He's going to come back and there's nothing I can do about it because you won't __**help me!**__"_

_A worried look passed across her mother's face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ally got there first._

_"NO! I do not need to be taken to any doctor, or 'psychiatrist' or whatever! I don't! I'm __**not crazy,**__ and I'm __**not making it up!**__"_

_Ally's mother looked at her. Her mouth was gaping open, opening and closing as she tried to think of what to say. _

_And Ally ran. She ran out the door, ran from her mother, her father, her past, her future. She ran as fast as she could._

_"ALLY!" Her mother screeched behind her._

_"NO!" Ally screeched back. Before she realized she was doing it, Ally was trying something she'd never tried before. "I am not your daughter! You don't have a daughter named Ally, you never did! Do you hear me? You don't have a daughter!"_

_Her mother slowed as Ally's words took hold of her mind. The suggestion grew in her._

_And she forgot. She forgot the ten years that Ally had been in her house, forgot the life that Ally had. She forgot everything, and her mind grew new memories, false memories, that filled in the gaps._

_And Ally ran._

* * *

Sylar's world was spinning. He felt himself being forcibly ejected from Ally's mind.

He came back to the real world with a harsh gasp. Ally's eyes were hard.

"What do you think you're _**doing?**_" Ally spoke the words through clenched teeth.

Sylar swallowed nervously. "I was just a little curious…"

"Curious?" Ally looked at him. Sylar had never seen her so angry. "_**Curious?**_ If you're so _curious, _Sylar, don't you think that you could, oh, I don't know, maybe _ask _me? Or what, you think it's better just to walk right into my _head?_"

"Isn't that what _you _do, Ally?" Sylar demanded, on the attack suddenly.

Ally glowered at him. "There's a difference between reading the thoughts of a person who is_ awake _and can _kill you_ and prying into someone's worst secrets when they're _asleep _and can't _stop you._"

Ally took the blanket in her hands and opened the car door. She stepped on the side of the seat, using it to propel herself onto the roof. Her movements were surprisingly fluid and graceful, the motions flawless. She placed her head on her arm and closed her eyes.

"Good _night, _Sylar." She growled.

Sylar sighed as Ally fell asleep on the roof of the car. She wasn't going to forgive this one too quickly, of that Sylar was sure.

* * *

The next day, Ally refused to speak to Sylar any more than necessary. Normally, Sylar would have been just fine with this, but, as Ally was the only thing that kept him from thinking about everything, it was actually much harder on him than he'd expected.

When she finally _did _speak, Sylar whipped his head around to listen attentively. But always it was small, simple questions, like, 'where are we going?' 'Left or right?' and 'Can you please stop falling asleep? You snore too much!'

Nights were no better. Ally would always sleep on the top of the car, exposing herself to humans but seeming to prefer that than to sleep anywhere near him, as though she was afraid he'd try and get inside her head again.

But Sylar would call out every so often, sometimes during the day, sometimes at night.

"Ally…" He'd use the same, mocking, sing-song voice that Ally used to use. He'd never get a reply.

So it was a perfect shock when, a week later, Ally called back.

"What?" It was the same sing-song voice as his.

"I'm sorry." Sylar recovered quickly.

"No you're not." The entire conversation had been spoken like that, a half-singing, half speaking melody that normally went with childish taunts.

He smiled and closed his eyes, knowing that he'd gotten as far as he could for now.

The next morning, Ally spoke a little more.

"So, when are you going to find Nightshade?"

Sylar winced. "We're back to that, are we?"

"Look. If you can say you're sorry for searching through my head while I was asleep, you can also answer my questions _honestly._ Why won't you go back and find her?"

Sylar sighed. He should have seen this coming. "Because I don't want to kill her."

"Huh. Well, that's a lie."

He looked at her, biting his lip. "You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

He sighed again. "I don't want to go back because… because I can't face it. I can't face what I did to her." He closed his eyes, his features betraying the pain he really felt. "I… I saw that scar on her forehead and… and she didn't deserve that. She trusted me and… and she shouldn't have."

"Because you're nothing but a killer?"

He looked at her. "Yeah." His voice was soft. "Because I'm nothing but a killer."

Ally swallowed. "Sylar, we both know that you're doing your best. And she knows it, too."

He looked away, and suddenly realized that this was one of the first two-way conversations they had.

That night, Ally slept in the driver's seat again, instead of on the roof. She smiled weakly at him, and he smiled back.

It was another week before Sylar made the decision. Ally had been back to her rambling, and Sylar had to cut her off to be heard.

"Ally."

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "You're right."

Ally looked at him with one eyebrow raised. She smiled as she read his mind; he'd decided to allow her to do that without any complaints, something she'd been taking advantage of frequently.

She smiled very softly. "Well, all right, then."

And she started driving.

* * *

It was a while before they found what they were looking for. Ally promised to get out of sight, and they could talk later if he needed to.

But that didn't make it any easier as Sylar waited, watching Nightshade in the distance. He'd decided to wait until the darkness had enveloped them both, and Nightshade had fallen asleep again.

This time, he wanted to do it right.

And, at two o'clock in the morning, Sylar crept over to the young girl's limp form.

He carefully lifted her into his arms.

Violet eyes snapped open. They blinked once.

This time, she didn't try to stand. She didn't look at him in shock or panic. She just stayed there, in his arms.

"Sylar?"

* * *

Nightshade felt two arms wrap around her, lifting her up off the ground.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Doubts were creeping into her mind, thoughts of humans who would destroy her blazing. But natural instinct told her that she was safe, safer than she had been in a very long time.

She blinked once, unsure what to make of the sight in front of her. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Sylar?"

The serial killer looked down at her, his dark eyes glittering in the shadows. She felt his hand, stroking her hair back, gently moving it away from her eyes.

They just sat there for a very long time. Nightshade didn't know what to think. She didn't know why he was here, if he was staying. She didn't know anything.

Finally, Sylar spoke. His voice was barely a whisper, and the sound of it made Nightshade's heart skip a beat. "Hello, Nightshade."

Nightshade listened carefully to his voice, trying to remember it, trying to _memorize _it. Because he wasn't going to stay; he couldn't.

She didn't know how long they stayed there, just looking at each other, trying to think of what to say next, and yet somehow happy with the silence.

"Things are going to be so much easier when I kill you."

Nightshade looked at him. She understood the meaning of his words; she understood what he was saying. But she didn't really care. "'When'?"

"There's not really an 'if' anymore, is there?"

"I suppose not."

Silence again, and then, "You really are a strange little girl."

Nightshade closed her eyes. With those seven simple little words, it seemed as though Sylar had never left.

He smiled and stroked her hair back again. He gently traced the line on her forehead.

She gripped his coat tightly. "You're going to leave again, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure yet." He replied. It seemed like an honest enough answer, but it tore at Nightshade nonetheless.

"Please don't." She whispered. A single tear slipped past her control. "Please."

"I won't. Not yet."

She smiled weakly and closed her eyes again. She didn't want to sleep; she wanted to stay awake, to make sure Sylar didn't leave her again.

"Shh… It's ok… It's ok…"

Only when he'd spoken did Nightshade realize she was crying. Her sobs were soft, but still uncontrollable.

Slowly, she began to drift into unconsciousness.

* * *

Nightshade was awake long before she opened her eyes.

But she didn't dare open them. Because then she would see. Then she would know that it was all a dream, that Sylar really _wasn't there. _

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself for the disappointment that was sure to come.

But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't completely destroy the last spark of hope inside of her. She couldn't make herself believe that he absolutely _wouldn't _be there.

She opened her eyes.

A sob forced its way up her throat. No Sylar.

"You low-life son of a bitch." She hissed, trying to use her anger to keep herself from crying. "You _bastard!_ How could you?"

But the anger did not last. She started crying again. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the tears, and herself, from the rest of the world.

"Nightshade?"

Nightshade's eyes whipped upwards. They widened as she saw Sylar, standing in front of her. He had a sandwich in his hand, wrapped in a plastic bag.

He smiled at her. "Thought you might want something to eat." He explained, gesturing to the sandwich.

Nightshade wasn't listening. She stood and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off his feet.

"Woah! Hey, 'Shade, relax!"

"What is your problem?" She demanded, trying to sound furious through her tears and the happiness that surged through her. "You didn't think that maybe, just maybe, I might actually _need _you out there? It's a dangerous world, and I don't know if I…"

Sylar placed a finger on her lips. "Shut up, Nightshade."

She couldn't help but smile as he stepped back to look at her.

"You've grown up." A worried look passed his face. "How many fights did you _get _in, kid?" He gently stroked a few of the scars on her arm, and one on her neck.

She punched him in the arm. "Well, it wasn't like you were there to _help, _oh no!"

He looked down somewhat sheepishly. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"You should be."

There was silence for a minute, then Sylar lifted up the plastic bag. "Sandwich?"

She smiled as he handed it to her, taking it gently from his fingers. He took that as an invitation to sit down, and did exactly that. Nightshade sat next to him as he pulled another sandwich out of his pocket.

They stayed in silence for a minute. Both had so many questions they needed to ask, but neither of them knew which to ask first.

Nightshade swallowed after a moment. "You said 'when' you killed me."

It wasn't technically a question. It was a simple statement of fact.

"Yeah."

Nightshade nodded slowly and started eating again.

"Do you want me to leave?" Sylar asked after another silent moment.

Nightshade shook her head. "Not really."

"Even though I'm going to kill you?"

"I'm not dead yet."

"Yes. But it's going to happen."

She shrugged. "Then it happens."

Silence filled the air again.

"I can see what you mean." A new voice entered the conversation. "She really is strange."

Nightshade leapt to her feet, but Sylar just nodded his head at the new arrival.

"It's all right, Nightshade. She's a friend."

Nightshade looked at the woman, then nodded slowly and sat down.

The woman beamed and sat next to Sylar. She held out a hand. "I'm Ally. A telepath."

Nightshade took it. "Nightshade. I create and control fear."

"So I've heard." Ally kept smiling. "Sylar's told me a lot about you. Well, not voluntarily, but still. He knew I knew." She grinned.

Nightshade found herself smiling back.

Maybe this world wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
